In tidal waters

Presented to the

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
LIBRARY

by the

ONTARIO LEGISLATIVE
LIBRARY

1980

IN TIDAL WATERS

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IN TIDAL WATERS*!

BY

FRANCIS B. COOKE

AUTHOR OP " THE CORINTHIAN YACHTSMAN'S HANDBOOK," " CRUISING
HINTS," "SEAMANSHIP FOR SMALL YACHTS," "YACHT-
RACING FOR AMATEURS," ETC.

JTITH ILLUSTRATIONS BT C. FLEMING WILLIAMS

LONDON

CHAPMAN AND HALL, LTD.
1919

PRINTED IN GRKAT BRITAIN BY

RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,

BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.B. 1,

AND BVNGAT, SUFFOLK.

PREFACE

THOSE whose ideas of yachting have been
derived from lounging on the deck of a large steam-
yacht at Cowes during the Regatta Week, with
an obsequious steward in attendance, will prob-
ably find little to interest them in these pages, as
the cruises described were for the most part
carried out in what the East Coast waterman
usually terms "little old tore-outs." The boats
were certainly inexpensive, and in some cases not
even seaworthy ; but in the golden days of youth
all our geese are swans, and I spent in them some
of the happiest days of my life. It is not by any
means the man with the longest purse who gets
the most fun out of yachting, and no youngster
with a fancy for the sea need be deterred from
taking up the sport by any mistaken ideas as to
its cost. The expense will be just what he likes
to make it, for it is merely a question of cutting
the coat according to the cloth.

Many of these little sailing sketches and remi-
niscences originally appeared in The Illustrated
Sporting and Dramatic News, The Yachting World,
and The Yachtsman; and I am indebted to the
Proprietors of those journals for kindly permit-
ting me to reprint them in this form. The events

vi PREFACE

recorded being mainly based upon fact, or at any
rate having a strong substratum of truth, I have
thought it desirable for obvious reasons to change
in some instances the names of yachts, persons,
and places.

F. B. C.

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

PREFACE V

I. INTRODUCTION ....... 1

II. MY FIRST BOAT ...... 6

III. MULTUM IN PARVO . ... . .15

IV. PILED UP. . . . . . .30

V. A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS .... 40

VI. BUYING EXPERIENCE ..... 47

VH. TIERCEL AGAIN 56

VHI. FOG-BOUND 66

IX. DOWN SWIN 75

X. IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE ... 85

XI. THE BUILDING OF SLEUTHHOUND . . . 101

XII. A NIGHT ON THE SANDS . . . . .112

XIII. A TABLOID CRUISER . . . . . .120

XIV. THE SALT-WATER CURE . . . . .134
XV. BRINGING HOME THE BOAT .... 146

XVI. SNIPE . 155

•

XVII. CRUISING IN SNIPE . . . . . .168

XVIII. EASTER YACHTING 180

vii

vili CONTENTS

CHAP. PA1B

XIX. CRUISING IN COMPANY . ... 190

XX. LOWESTOFT . . . . . . 198

XXI. A NIGHT AT SEA ...... 212

XXH. BREAKERS AHEAD 221

XXIII. AN AUTUMN PASSAGE 232

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Facing page

" By pushing with all my weight and strength, I could just manage
to shove the boat clear of one pile on to the next " Frontispiece

11 The work had to be carried on by the uncertain light of the

hurricane lantern" . . . . . . .37

"Marooned on a mooring buoy in the middle of St. Clement's

Reach" 44

" If you think I'm a-goin' to sit up all night pumping the bloomin'

Thames through 'er, I ain't " ...... 54

" We emerged from the cabin in time to see a great barge slithering

away into the darkness " . . . . . . 63

" The yacht listed until the water poured over the coamings " . 71
" A huge wave broke with a mighty roar right over us " . . 82
"There was no alternative but to remove my nether garments " . 113

"As we watched her crashing through the seas, we thought with

dismay of what lay before us " . . . . . . 152

"He speedily 'laid all before him,' as Kipling hath it" . . 184

" I made repeated ineffectual dabs at the reef cringle " . . . 227

"A great wave picked her up and literally hurled her into the

smooth water of the haven " . . . . 240

ix

IN TIDAL WATERS
CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

A LOVE of the sea and ships is the heritage of
every Briton. If you doubt the truth of this
assertion, take your small son, preferably in his
best clothes, to a brickfield in which there is a
muddy pond and leave him there for half-an-hour.
When you return you will in all probability find
him braving the perils of the deep on a rude raft
constructed from any old planks that happened
to be lying about. Again, take him at a still more
tender age into a toy-shop and ask him what he
would like. He will without hesitation choose a
" real Cowes cutter," priced at a shilling or there-
abouts, in blissful ignorance of the fact that it
will float only on its side. And it may be remarked
in parenthesis that history is likely to repeat
itself, for when in after life he comes to buy his
first yacht it is quite within the bounds of possi-
bility that he will learn once more that boats are
not always what they seem.

If this love of boats is not inherited it would be
interesting to know from whence it is derived.

2 IN TIDAL WATERS

It is shared equally by boys who dwell far from
the sea and those who live on the coast. My
small son, for instance, when barely four was
deeply offended because I declined to buy him one
of the Belle Steamers which was embarking pas-
sengers at Southwold Pier, and only the other day
when I asked him what he would best like to have
in all the world the answer, "A boat," came pat.
And yet the child has been afloat but once in his
life, and then only for a few minutes in a dinghy
when a baby of a few months old. If this taste
is not inherited I am at a loss to know from where
he gets it. Anyhow, it pleases me to think that
his love of boats has been inherited from his father,
for I have been passionately attached to yachts
and sailing craft of all descriptions as long as I
can remember.

My first boat — or at any rate the first that
would float the right side uppermost — was a
schooner of some twenty-four inches over all,
known to fame as the Arrow. I acquired her
from a schoolfellow in exchange for a roller skate
minus a wheel, a catapult, and a white mouse in
a delicate state of health. It might be supposed
that I had the best of the bargain, but the Arrow
at that time was a bare shell, sans deck, keel,
spars, and sails. As my income amounted to but
twopence per week, which as often as not was
forfeited for alleged breaches of decorum, my
financial condition was usually verging upon
bankruptcy. Some little ingenuity and enter-
prise were therefore called for in fitting out my

INTRODUCTION 3

new acquisition. Cigar boxes provided the wood
for her decks, and to furnish a keel some pieces of
condemned lead piping were melted down and run
in a mould made in a flower-bed. The spars and
rigging presented but little difficulty, but I must
confess that the sails were something of a problem.
However, with the aid of my mother's sewing
machine, and certain garments purloined from
my sister's wardrobe, I contrived to make a very
presentable suit.

I rigged her after the style of the schooner
America of which I found a spirited picture in the
Illustrated London News of 1851, and when com-
pleted she was a rakish-looking craft. A penny-
worth of Brunswick black applied to the topsides
imparted a gloss that was much admired, and a
number of small brass cannon on her deck con-
verted her into the slaver of my dreams. At the
fore she carried the Union Jack, but at the main
she flew the Jolly Roger, a somewhat incongruous
combination that I found very pleasing. The
trial trip was highly successful, and after I had got
the weights on the balance-rudder correctly ad-
justed the boat sailed like a witch. The Arrow,
in fact, was soon recognised as the champion of
the Whitestone Pond at Hampstead.

These waters, better known perhaps as the
Horse Pond, were not a particularly favourable
venue for model yacht sailing, for at either en<J,
where the road entered and left the pond, there
was little water and much mud. The Arrow
frequently grounded there far out of reach, a

4 IN TIDAL WATERS

mishap that entailed wading in after her, to the
detriment of my nether garments. This led to
sad trouble at home and caused those in authority
to look askance at my boat-sailing expeditions.
Moreover, the pond was a favourite haunt of
tradesmen's boys, who not infrequently beguiled
the shining hour by throwing stones and mud at
the boats as they approached the shore. No owner
of spirit could be expected to brook such treat-
ment and more than once I was involved in personal
combat. And so it came about that in course
of time I became heartily sick of the incon-
veniences of the Whitestone Pond, and having
beaten all the other boats I, like Alexander,
sighed for fresh worlds to conquer.

Obsessed with the idea of trying conclusions
with the cracks of the Round Pond, I one day,
greatly daring, smuggled the Arrow out of the
house and playing truant from school trudged all
the way to Kensington. Never was adventure
fraught with such grievous disaster. On her very
first course the Arrow rammed the " pepper-box,"
a large perforated overflow pipe, in which her
bowsprit became firmly fixed. There she lay far
from the shore with miniature seas breaking over
her decks. For hours I made futile attempts to
free her by throwing stones, and all the time she
was slowly filling through a leaky hatchway. The
end was something of the suddenest. A well-
directed stone hit her fairly amidships and drove
her clear of the obstruction. But the shout of
joy I was preparing to utter was strangled in my

INTRODUCTION 5

throat, for the boat suddenly hove up her bows
and foundered stern first.

There were those who laughed when the Arrow
went down, but to me, her owner, it was a heart-
breaking tragedy, of which, after five-and-thirty
years, I still retain a vivid recollection. And I
have not altogether forgotten the reception I had
from an indignant parent when I returned home
hungry and weary; but over that it is perhaps
as well to draw a veil.

CHAPTER II

MY FIRST BOAT

A YOUNGSTER fresh from a public school arid
on the threshold of a business career seldom has a
superfluity of cash. He earns but little, and his
parents, if wise, do not add materially to his
scanty salary; for it is good for the young to
learn the value of money. That, at least, was the
opinion of my own people, and when I came to
leave school I realised that, if I wanted a boat,
I should have to save up to buy one. And I
wanted a boat very badly ; so much so indeed that
I was prepared to go to considerable lengths in
the way of self-sacrifice to obtain one.

My economies were of the most rigid descrip-
tion. I not infrequently lunched at a tea-shop off
a glass of milk and a " workhouse." For the
benefit of the uninitiated it may be explained that
a " workhouse " is a huge wedge of cake of the
plainest and cheapest description, which officially,
I believe, enjoys the courtesy title of lunch cake.
Sometimes I even dispensed with lunch altogether,
resting content with a pipe and a look over London
Bridge. By such methods of thrift I in course of
time accumulated a little pile of sovereigns, and
at last there dawned a day when I felt justified
in buying my first boat.

MY FIRST BOAT 7

One might think that, given the money, the
purchase of a boat was the easiest thing in
the world, but I soon found that that was not the
case. I also learnt, whilst engaged upon the quest,
that things are not always what they seem. For
example, what could have sounded more promising
than the following advertisement : " For sale, 12-ft.
centre-board dinghy with lugsail, nearly new ; very
fast and handy; £10; owner buying a larger " ?

The very thing, I thought, and spent the rest
of the week in a state of feverish anxiety lest the
bargain should be snapped up ere I could get
down to Surbiton to inspect it. A nearly new
12-ft. sailing dinghy for £10. What a stroke of
luck if I could only secure her !

As I journeyed to Surbiton the following
Saturday afternoon, I wondered what she would
be like. In moments of optimism my imagina-
tion soared to the giddy heights of mahogany and
carvel building, white gratings, and rep cushions;
at the worst I did not anticipate anything less
than a nicely finished boat of spruce or pine in
good condition, for did not the advertisement say
that she was nearly new ?

Arriving at the boathouse indicated in the
advertisement, I explained that I had called to
see the dinghy advertised for sale by Mr. Jones*

"Where's that boat of Mr. Jones's, Bill?"
shouted the man to his mate, who was engaged
in varnishing a skiff. ,

" I believe she's in the corner of the yard behind
the Hyacinth" was the reply.

8 IN TIDAL WATERS

I was led across an untidy yard at the back of
the premises which seemed to be tenanted by
numerous old craft in various stages of disin-
tegration. Hidden from view by the remains of
a half-demolished steam launch, which appeared
to be the Hyacinth, we found Mr. Jones's dinghy,
and a single glance sufficed to shatter my hopes.
She was a tubby old boat that had at one time
been painted red, but was now for the most part
coated with green mould. On her transom could
just be deciphered the name Fat Boy.

" That can't be the boat," I protested. " The
advertisement says that she is nearly new," and
I pulled the paper from my pocket and handed it
to the man.

" Oh, I expect he means that the sail is nearly
new," was the reply, " She's got a tidy sail.
Anyhow, that's Mr. Jones's boat right enough."

" Well, Mr. Jones can keep her, so far as I am
concerned," I remarked and stalked away in high
dudgeon, as they say in the novelettes.

I was bitterly disappointed and not a little
indignant ; but I had come out to buy a boat and
if there was one for sale in the district at anything
like my price, I was determined that I would go
home an owner that evening. Walking down the
towpath I called at every yard I came to, but
met with no luck. Nobody seemed to have a
centre-plate dinghy for sale. Having visited all
the boat-building yards at Kingston I was on the
point of abandoning my quest when I observed
another yard on the opposite bank by the

MY FIRST BOAT 9

bridge. Ten minutes later I was interviewing
Mr. Tooley.

My search was over. Within a quarter of an
hour I had become the owner of a clench-built
elm dinghy with a big balance-lug. She seemed
in excellent condition and required nothing more
than a coat of paint and varnish which Tooley
agreed to put on for a sovereign and have her ready
for me by the following Saturday afternoon.

The week that intervened between the purchase
and taking over of my first boat was the longest
I can remember, but fortunately I happened upon
an old schoolfellow, one Anthony, and was able
to beguile the time by talking about my new
purchase. Anthony was a yachtsman, part owner
of a cutter which sailed the waters of the Thames
Estuary, and he gave me a lot of instruction in
the course of the week, finally promising to come
down and put me into the way of it when I took
my boat out for her trial trip.

When the eventful Saturday arrived the weather
was not all that could be desired for open boat
sailing. It was the month of February and the
river was in flood. There was, moreover, a strong
treacherous wind from the south-west, but nothing
daunted we travelled down to Kingston.

The boat was ready, but not in the water, as
Tooley did not think we should come in such
weather. However, it was the work of only a few
minutes to launch her, and we then prepared to flefy
the elements. The sail, when brought out, seemed
enormous for such a small boat, and Tooley 's

10 IN TIDAL WATERS

suggestion that we should reef it struck me as
eminently sensible. But Anthony, the yachtsman,
with a supercilious smile brushed the proposal aside,
and proceeded to bend on the halyard. Now, that
sail was the boat's racing lug and had an area
of something like 150 square feet. No wonder
Tooley and his men " downed tools " and lined
up on the bank to see the fun.

When all was ready we took our places : Anthony
at the tiller and myself seated on the floor-boards.
Willing hands pushed us off, and as we shot out
from among the boats moored to the bank,
Anthony gathered in the sheet. For the moment
there was a lull in the breeze, and, almost becalmed,
we glided slowly out into mid-river. Suddenly we
were struck by a vicious gust, and the greater
part of the lee-side of the dinghy disappeared
beneath the water. An expert boat sailor could
have saved the situation even then, but Anthony
was a yachtsman, and those who go down to the
sea in nve-tonners are not necessarily skilled in
the art of handling open boats. In less time than
it takes to write the dinghy had foundered, leaving
two hapless wights, attired in overcoats and felt
hats, swimming in mid-stream.

We were both pretty good swimmers and the
adventure was not fraught with much danger.
Nevertheless, swimming in heavy clothing is not
altogether pleasant, particularly in the month of
February; but the crowd that had collected on
Kingston Bridge seemed to enjoy the performance
more than a little. We landed in somebody's

MY FIRST BOAT 11

garden a quarter of a mile lower down and trotted
back to the boathouse with the water squelching
from our boots. Tooley met us with a sort of
" told you so " look in his eye, but was good enough
to lend us some old clothes. The garments were
few in number and chiefly noticeable for a lack of
buttons, but they served the purpose.

In the meantime, two of his men had gone off to
raise the wreck, an operation that did not promise
much difficulty as the masthead was showing above
water. It did not, however, prove quite such a
simple matter as we anticipated, for the boat was
ballasted with two 56-lb. weights lashed together
with a strap. The salvage party was soon joined
by a man in a skiff, who had put out from Turk's
boathouse on the other side of the river, and
between them they contrived to lift her until the
bow showed above water. But then, owing to a
misunderstanding, she slipped from their grasp and
disappeared again below the surface. So did the
man from Turk's, who took a header out of his
skiff. He came up gasping, and as he climbed
into his boat we heard him say, " Is this your
boat? Well, you can take 'er; I've 'ad enough."
And without another word he pulled lustily for
the shore.

Then Tooley himself, with another of his men,
went off, and between the four of them they soon
lifted the wrecked dinghy and towed her ashore.
The boat was a sorry sight. She was plastered
with mud inside and her new paint badly scratched,
but with the exception of a stretcher none of her

12 IN TIDAL WATERS

gear was missing. Anthony suggested venturing
afloat again, but I thought he had " put me into
the way of it " quite enough for one afternoon
and declined. So we decided to return home, and
having arranged with Tooley to have the boat
repainted during the coming week, prepared to
take our departure.

To wear our own clothes was out of the question,
and we had no alternative but to make shift with
those Tooley had lent us. With the aid of sundry
pins cunningly placed, the decencies were pre-
served, but there was no getting away from the
fact that we looked rather like a pair of tramps
down on their luck. With coat collars turned up
to disguise the absence of shirts and collars, we
made our way to the station, each carrying a huge
brown-paper parcel, from the corners of which
water dripped suspiciously. Fortune favoured us
in so far that we had an empty carriage all the
way to London, but on arrival at Waterloo our
luck deserted us. We were stopped at the barrier
for our tickets. Oh horror ! We had left them
in the pockets of our own clothes in company with
our money. There was nothing for it but to
unpack our parcels, which we accordingly did on
the platform. At first the spectators were com-
paratively few in number, but the British public
soon scents a free show, and in next to no time
we were the centre of a considerable crowd.

The tickets, somewhat pulpy but still legible,
were found and surrendered and then we had to
pack up our luggage again. Have you ever tried

MY FIRST BOAT 13

to pack a lot of sodden clothes in brown paper
that is in the last stages of disintegration ? If you
have not, take my advice and don't; or at any
rate do not select a platform of a great London
terminus as the scene of operations. As, with
feverish haste, we endeavoured to draw the wet
paper together, great pieces tore away until we
were left with little more than the string.

There is a limit to human endurance and with
us that limit was soon reached. Grabbing our
clothes up in our arms we slunk away, followed
by the ribald laughter of the idle crowd. We
made the rest of our journey home in the privacy
of what is, or used to be, vulgarly termed a
" growler," but which in our eyes was a heaven-
sent haven of refuge.

After that ill-fated trip I came to the conclusion
that if my self-appointed instructor was going to
make a practice of putting me " in the ditch,"
I could get there very well unaided, and so I
resolved to learn how to handle a dinghy by
myself. Week after week I spent my Saturday
afternoons afloat on Teddington Reach and,
strange to say, met with no further misadventure.
But all the same I had many close shaves of
capsizing, and it was probably by luck rather than
judgment that I contrived to keep the boat right
side up. Every time the dinghy heeled to a puff
of wind, my heart went into my mouth, as the
saying goes, and it was altogether a nerve-/acking
business. Did I enjoy myself? I suppose I must
have done or I should not have persevered. But I

14 IN TIDAL WATERS

am inclined to think that the enjoyment must
have beeri somewhat akin to that of Mr. Malthus
of therStiicide Club, for if the stakes for which I
played were not so high there was the same thrill
of danger courted and averted. " Fear is the
strong passion; it is with fear that you must
trifle if you wish to taste the intensest joys of
living," said Mr. Malthus to Colonel Geraldine, and
I rather think there is an element of truth in the
remark. Are not our finest and most fascinating
sports those which are flavoured with the spice
of personal risk ?

But familiarity breeds contempt and I gradually
became accustomed to the sensation of the boat
listing over under the weight of the sudden puffs
of wind which are a characteristic of the upper
reaches of the Thames. Moreover, I began to
handle my boat with some degree of confidence
and the thrills became few and far between.
Strange to say, when I reached this stage of
my sailing education, I lost interest in navigating
the waters of Teddington Reach and began to pine
for adventures further afield.

11 III

CHAPTER III

MULTUM IN PARVO

" I SAY, old man," said Anthony, " if you have
nothing on at Easter come away with us in the
Tiercel. She's lying at Hole Haven, and we are
going for a trip to Ramsgate and back."

Being rather tired of sailing about Teddington
Reach in a dinghy, I accepted my friend's invitation
eagerly. Anthony was for ever singing the praises
of the Tiercel, which he owned in conjunction with
one or two friends, and I was anxious to see the
paragon. Moreover, having had no experience of
anything but small boat sailing " above bridges,"
the idea of a cruise in a real yacht was particularly
attractive to me, and I literally counted the days
to Easter.

When the time came I met Anthony by appoint-
ment and he carried me off to a small restaurant in
Soho to dine with " some of the other chaps."
This restaurant, if unpretentious in appearance,
was certainly cheap, for we had a table d'hote dinner
of many courses for eighteenpence a head, inclu-
sive of wine. The fish course, I remember, bore
a strong family likeness to the homely bloater^ and
the wine was — well, none but an analytical chemist
could say exactly what it was. Before the meal

15

16 IN TIDAL WATERS

was over our party numbered five, and it was with
some little surprise that I learnt they were all
coming away in the Tiercel. It was pretty evident
that I had formed a quite erroneous impression of
the size and accommodation of a five-tonner. She
must be a fine big boat, I thought, and looked
forward ta the trip with enhanced pleasure.

After dinner we proceeded to Fenchurch Street
Station, where we found two more enthusiastic
yachtsmen awaiting us, and, just as the train was
on the point of departure, still another put in an
appearance. Our party of eight just about filled
a compartment, and we started our journey in the
highest of spirits. From the conversation of my
companions I gathered that one Harrison had
missed the train, but was sure to come on by the
next. Nine in a five-tonner ! Why, it seemed
absurd on the face of it. Hang it all, I said to
myself, this must be quite a big vessel, and I came
to the conclusion that I must have misunderstood
what Anthony had told me about her size.

As we proceeded in leisurely fashion to Benfleet
the question of Harrison catching the next train
was discussed with an anxiety that bordered upon
the feverish. Turning to Anthony I remarked,
" This chap Harrison seems to be a very popular
member of your crew." " Why, hang it, man, he's
got all the grub," was the reply. He explained that
Harrison had been commissioned to buy the neces-
sary stores for the trip and bring them down with
him. If he failed to turn up it was evident that
we should go hungry. From that moment, I may

MULTUM IN PARVO 17

say, my interest in the missing Harrison was as
keen as that of any member of the party.

On reaching Benfleet we were faced with another
disappointment. A new stove, ordered in anticipa-
tion of the trip, had not arrived, and consternation
was depicted upon every face as we crowded round
the station-master. The last goods train of the
day was, we learnt, due in about an hour, and
there was just a chance that the stove might come
by that. " Anyhow," said the skipper, " we can't
do without it, and so we had better go up to the inn
and wait."

We therefore adjourned to the inn and took
possession of the bar parlour, with the exception
of two members of the crew, who were sent into the
town to lay in a stock of bread.

About 10.30 p.m. the truant Harrison pushed
open the door of the room. " I thought I should
find you chaps here," he remarked by way of
greeting.

" Where's the grub? " we shouted in chorus.

" Oh, that's all right. I've left it at the station.
And the stove's just arrived."

With nothing to detain us we prepared to move
on to Hole Haven, which, I was told, was on the
other side of Canvey Island some three miles
distant. When the tide is out carts can cross the
creek to the island, but unfortunately on this occa-
sion the water was too high, and so there was no
alternative but to walk and carry our luggage as
best we could. A three-mile walk in itself is no
particular hardship, but it is quite another story

18 IN TIDAL WATERS

when one has to carry two heavy packing-cases, a
number of bags, and nine loaves.

Although on the threshold of the month of April
it was freezing hard, and we shivered with cold as
we stood on the bank waiting for the ferry boat.
As the flat-bottomed punt that served as ferry boat
would not accommodate us all, we had to make
two trips. The Stygian waters of the muddy creek
had a most forbidding appearance as we ventured
out from the shore, and the Charon who rowed us
over looked askance at the heavy load we piled into
the boat. The punt's freeboard was reduced to
something like two inches, and I firmly believe that
had any one coughed we should have capsized. I
frankly confess that it was with feelings of unspeak-
able relief that I stood upon firm ground again..

When we were all over, Harrison was sent on
ahead to get the dinghy ready. He was compara-
tively fortunate, having nothing to carry but a
couple of bags and a few loaves. The rest of us
were divided up into two parties of four each, the
remainder of the luggage being split up between
us. Each party carried a case on their shoulders,
the rest of the things being piled on top. In the
uncertain light our procession might easily have
been mistaken for a double funeral, and long ere
we reached our destination our spirits were attuned
to such a ceremony. Oh, that ghastly walk ! My
shoulders ache now at the mere thought of it.
When we arrived at the Haven we were met by
Harrison with the intelligence that the dinghy
leaked like an old basket, but that he had borrowed

MULTUM IN PARVO 19

(without permission, I strongly suspect) a fine big
boat that would take the whole crowd, luggage and
all. He had, however, failed to procure any coal
as the inn was shut.

66 Oh, well, we must do without, '\said the skipper,
" we can break up the cases for fuel. We must
get away at once if we are going out this ebb."

So, without further parley, we embarked in the
borrowed boat and put off to the yacht. If I had
been surprised before I was destined to be more
so now. The Tiercel proved to be an old converted
ship's boat of some thirty feet in length.

" Good Heavens, old man," I exclaimed to
Anthony, " where are we all going to sleep ? "

" We don't do much sleeping aboard this packet,"
was the ominous reply. And when I looked round
at the crowd struggling to get into the little kennel
that purported to be a cabin, I cannot say that I
was altogether surprised at the information.

One of the crew, a fellow named Leslie, was then
sent back with the borrowed boat, receiving instruc-
tions to return with the Tiercel's own dinghy,
which was lying at the causeway. After a pro-
longed absence we heard him returning, and from
sundry remarks wafted across the water gathered
that all was not well with him. As has already
been hinted, the condition of the Tiercel's dinghy
left a good deal to be desired. As a cullender it
might have served a useful purpose, but as a dinghy
it was of no account at all. In fact it filled and
rolled over just as the unfortunate Leslie stretched
out an eager hand to grasp the Tiercel, and his

20 IN TIDAL WATERS

remarks anent dinghies in general and that of the
Tiercel in particular, as we pulled him on board,
were fluent and to the point.

This diversion was hardly over when the skipper
discovered that the rudder was unshipped, and he
also began to say things in the vulgar tongue — I
don't think I ever heard a more vulgar— and there
was certainly some excuse for annoyance. We were
anxious to take the last of the ebb across to Queen-
borough with the idea of working through the
Swale on the young flood, and here we lay crippled,
what time the favourable tide was running away
from us.

" Some one must go overboard and ship it," said
the skipper with decision.

There was no response.

" Here, Leslie, you are wet through already and
may as well go in again," he suggested.

Leslie politely intimated that he would see the
skipper damned first.

"I'd go in myself if I hadn't a weak heart,"
said the skipper; whereat there was an audible
titter, for the skipper never fails to refer to an
alleged cardiac affection when there is work to be
done.

" Here, I'll go in," said Anthony, commencing to
strip off his clothes midst the applause of his com-
panions. A few minutes later he stood on the rail
stripped to the buff and shivering in the cold night
air whilst he hardened his heart for the plunge.
Then he threw up his hands and dived. A moment
later his head appeared above water, and with a

MULTUM IN PARVO 21

sobbing gasp he made a bee-line back to the boat.
He also said he would see the skipper damned, and
the future of that gentleman began to look rather
black.

Anthony's troubles were by no means over, for,
on retiring to the cabin to dress, he made the un-
pleasant discovery that there were no towels on
board, an omission to which Leslie had been vainly
attempting to draw attention for some time. It
may be the custom among the bathers of the
Regent's Canal and other fashionable watering-
places to use their apparel for drying purposes, but
when the garments in question have to be worn
immediately afterwards they are apt to leave a
damp clammy feeling that is not altogether desir-
able. For the next hour or two neither Anthony
nor Leslie could be classed as a pleasant companion.

After many futile attempts to ship the rudder
from the deck, it was decided to defer starting until
the following afternoon and a general move was
made towards the cabin. I then learnt that the
interior of the yacht was even less inviting than the
exterior had appeared in the uncertain light. The
cabin, in the absence of a fore-bulkhead, was open
right through and quite destitute of furniture or
fittings. A bunk ran down either side forming
seats, but the roof was so low that it was impossible
to sit upright. As there were no cushions I could
only conclude that her owners made a practice of
sleeping upon what Dan Leno used to describe as
" pure wood." Water dripped freely from the
underside of the deck, and a cheap tin paraffin

22 IN TIDAL WATERS

lamp with a smoky glass smelt abominably. Into
this nauseating den the whole nine of us crowded.

The cases we had brought with us having been
opened, the stove was set up in the fo'c'stle. Will-
ing hands chopped up wood, and with the aid of a
liberal sprinkling of paraffin a fire was soon kindled.
Now, burning the Yule-log at Christmas -time may
be all very well, but it does not necessarily follow
that the same pleasing effect will be secured when
the lid of a packing-case is burnt in a bogey stove
that has no chimney. Being neither a ham nor a
haddock I discreetly withdrew to the deck, where
I was soon joined by a coughing crowd, the opinion
being freely expressed that it was better to be
frozen than suffocated. Presently one of the party
ventured into the cabin with a bucket of water
and quenched the fire, and after the smoke had
cleared off we retired below again to make prepara-
tions for passing the remainder of the night. I say
" passing the night " advisedly, for I saw but little
prospect of getting any sleep. As I have remarked,
there was a sharp frost and the sleeping arrange-
ments of the Tiercel left much to be desired.
There was insufficient room for all of us to lie down,
and bedding was a negligible quantity. Solomon
in his wisdom once demonstrated how one baby
might be divided between two women, but I fancy
he would have been somewhat puzzled if called
upon to apportion two diminutive blankets among
nine men.

I think I may say without any great departure
from the truth that I never passed a more uncom-

MULTUM IN PARVO 23

fortable night in my life. Sitting huddled up in
my overcoat with my chin almost on my knees, I
was chilled to the marrow and soon began to feel
that dry, prickly sensation all over my body which
I have since learnt is peculiar to sleeping in small
yachts in the winter. One by one my companions
dropped off into a troubled sleep, and most of them
snored abominably. Without, the rippling tide
splashed against the lands of the clench-built boat,
and the plaintive call of a solitary curlew added a
mournful note to a situation which in itself was
sufficiently desolate.

This Anthony called yachting. I fell a-think-
ing of the terms of my friend's invitation and of
the definition of the word " yacht," which brought
to my mind a hackneyed quotation from Romeo
and Juliet—

" What's in a name ? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

The lines kept running through my head until I
dozed off. I awoke at about 7 a.m., with a stiff
neck and a vile cold, but only too thankful to see
daylight and realise that that ghastly night was
over.

Some of the crew were already busy with a key-
hole saw cutting a hole in the fore-deck for the
stove-pipe, and soon the merry frizzling of bacon
heralded the approach of breakfast. If the sleeping
accommodation of the Tiercel was inadequate the
appointments of the table were even more primitive.

In the absence of a table a cloth was not perhaps

24 IN TIDAL WATERS

required, but I do not think I was unreasonable in
expecting such articles of every-day use as knives
and forks, plates, cups and saucers. None, how-
ever, were forthcoming, the owners of the Tiercel
apparently preferring to base their table manners
upon the old saying that fingers were made before
forks. Each man, with the exception of myself,
produced from his belt a sheath-knife of piratical
dimensions, and as I was a visitor Anthony, with
Oriental politeness, permitted me to share his.
The bacon was served up hot and frizzling in a huge
frying-pan that was not guiltless of rust, whilst
the coffee was made in the kettle. The only drink-
ing utensils the syndicate appeared to possess were
an old enamelled iron mug and a glass which I am
prepared to swear once accommodated a pound of
jam. These were passed from hand to hand after
the style of the loving-cup at a civic banquet. It
might be thought that eating hot bacon without
forks would have presented something of a problem.
Not a bit of it. These happy-go-lucky yachtsmen
were quite content to follow the example of the
working man and take their breakfast in the form
of a " thumb -piece." As this is a somewhat
technical term it may be as well to explain that a
" thumb-piece " consists of a slice of meat placed
on a hunk of bread, the meat being held in position
by the thumb whilst the eater bites off a morsel,
varying in dimensions according to his individual
fancy and the size of his mouth. When the bacon
is scorching hot, and the front teeth not quite what
they should be, this method of eating is not to

MULTUM IN PARVO 25

be recommended, neither is it particularly edifying
to watch. " Manners makyth man," says the
motto of one of our most famous public schools,
and if the adage carries but a modicum of truth,
the crew of the Tiercel must, I fear, have taken a
very low place in the order of manhood.

After breakfast, the yacht having grounded, we
shipped the rudder, and then, when the young flood
had made sufficiently to float the dinghy, I and
two others went off to the inn to get some coke for
the stove. It was an exciting trip. Whilst one
man pulled, the other two bailed vigorously, but
it was all we could do to keep the boat afloat.
Fortunately we had taken the precaution to remove
our shoes and socks before starting, and with our
trousers rolled up managed to keep fairly dry. On
arriving at the " Lobster Smack " I seized the
opportunity to supplement my scanty breakfast
with some bread-and-cheese and a bottle of Bass,
which, despite the early hour, were very acceptable.
With the additional weight of a sack of coke the
return journey was even more perilous than the
first, but we had the flood under us and by pulling
lustily contrived to reaeh the Tiercel before the
dinghy filled.

At high water we got under way with a fine
easterly breeze bound for Queenborough, and I had
an opportunity of seeing the yacht under sail.
She was a disreputable-looking old hooker, sadly
in need of a coat of paint, and I cannot say that I
was impressed. Her sails, which hung from the
spars like old sacks? were yery dirty and mildewed

26 IN TIDAL WATERS

and only fit to make clothing for a scarecrow, The
mainsail had two large rents in it in addition to a
number of smaller slits. Where there was not a
tear there seemed to be a patch, and the general
effect was that of an old patchwork quilt rescued
from the rubbish heap. The clew of the jib was
badly torn, whilst the foresail had a hole in it that
a man could have crawled through. In fact, there
was so little of the sail left it seemed a farce to set
it at all. Years ago a good deal was written in the
technical Press on the virtues of perforated sails.
WTell, I then had a good opportunity of seeing the
theory put to a practical test, for it would be diffi-
cult to imagine sails more perforated than those
of the Tiercel, but I failed to appreciate any advan-
tage. In this unpromising craft I made my first
venture in tidal waters, and let me say at once that,
despite the discomfort, I thoroughly enjoyed the
experience.

There is something peculiarly attractive about
the Thames Estuary, and to this day it has a fascina-
tion for me that I find irresistible. A beat to wind-
ward down Sea Reach on the ebb with a fresh
easterly breeze is most exhilarating. The swift
running tide carries the vessel over the bottom so
fast that the weatherliiiess of almost any craft is
flattered, and as one steers her through the jabble
of sea knocked up by the weather-going tide one
feels that it is good to be alive.

Viewed from the deck of a passing vessel the
Tiercel must have somewhat resembled a box of
sardines with the he^ds sticking out. Five of the

MULTUM IN PARVO 27

crew were in the well, two more seated on the
cabin-top, whilst two looked out from the fore-
hatch. Nevertheless, we had a slashing sail to
Queenborough, where we brought up close to the
hard. Feeling unequal to passing another night
on board, I and three others went ashore and put
up at an inn, where we foregathered with some other
yachtsmen and spent a very pleasant evening.

The next morning on going on board we found the
men who had stuck to the ship busy carpentering.
It appeared that the stove had set the fore- deck on
fire, burning a good-sized hole in it and loosening
the bowsprit bitts. After the damage had been
temporarily repaired, we started with a strong wind
to run through the Swale to Faversham Creek.
There are many mud flats in the Swale, and I think
we " found " them all. Fortunately we had the
flood under us, and always got afloat again without
much delay. Getting through the railway bridge
was a somewhat exciting episode, as the man in
charge of it only opened a gap of a few feet for our
topmast. More by luck than judgment we man-
aged to squirm through, and reached our destina-
tion without further incident. We anchored in the
mouth of Faversham Creek, and two of the crew
went off in the dinghy to borrow a big boat in which
we could all go ashore, as every one by this time
had had enough of sleeping on board.

The tide was ebbing, and by the time they re-
turned we were high and dry. As the boat
grounded several yards from the Tiercel I borrowed
Anthony's sea boots to wade through the mud,

28 IN TIDAL WATERS

Now Anthony was in the front row when feet were
served out, and his boots were large policeman's
size. Their generous proportions were my un-
doing. The mud of Faversham Creek is about the
softest to be found anywhere in the neighbourhood
of the Thames Estuary, and when I stepped over-
board I sank in up to my knees. Attempting to
pull one foot out I found that I was leaving the boot
behind, and in my struggles to retain it, fell forward
on to my face. The more I struggled to get up the
worse my plight, and in a few seconds I was plas-
tered from head to foot with black slimy mud.
And I had just changed into my shore clothes. I
am inclined to think that La Rochefoucauld was not
far wrong when he made his famous remark to the
effect that " there is something not altogether
displeasing in viewing the misfortunes of our
friends." My companions simply howled with
laughter, and several minutes elapsed ere they were
in fit condition to extricate me from my unsavoury
bed. Eventually, however, they dragged me out
and took me ashore, a picture of woe. At the inn
I borrowed some clothes to wear whilst my own
were being dried and cleaned, and then we sat down
to tea.

In the golden days of youth misadventures are
speedily forgotten, and long before the meal was
finished I had quite recovered my spirits. The
landlord of the inn had told us of a local smack
that was for sale, and it was decided to go and see
the boat next day with a view to purchase. Ways
and means were^eagerly discussed. As she was a

MULTUM IN PARVO 29

craft of some five-and-twenty tons it was the general
opinion that the syndicate must add to their number
and I agreed to become a member if the deal went
through. It was nearly midnight ere we thought
of turning in, and then a fresh difficulty arose.
There was only one room available, and how were
nine men to sleep in one bed? We solved the
problem by drawing lots. Four slept in the bed,
four on the floor, and one on the stairs. The last
mentioned, being late to come up, was locked out,
some one remarking that it was not healthy for too
many to sleep in a room.

The next morning we awoke to find it blowing a
gale, and as we were hot on the scent of a new boat,
we decided to spend the morning in looking over
this craft and then abandon our cruise and go by
train to Margate for the remainder of the holiday.
Leaving the Tiercel in the care of the landlord of the
inn, we carried out this programme, and so ended
my first trip in tidal waters.

CHAPTER IV

PILED UP

WE called her a yacht, but I am now rather in-
clined to think that the title was something of a
courtesy one, for she was, in fact, an old smack
built in the early days of the last century. How-
ever, she had been bought with hard-earned money,
and if it was our pleasure to call her a yacht it con-
cerned nobody but ourselves. The Five Sisters, of
Faversham, had laboured for upwards of eighty
years over the oyster beds at Whitstable, and her
owner accepted our offer of £35 with a haste that
might almost be described as unseemly. But she
would float and had her full complement of gear,
and thirty shillings a ton can hardly be considered
an extravagant price to pay for a yacht. Split up
amongst the nine of us it did not amount to much
apiece, but nevertheless it strained our financial
resources to the verge of breaking point, and when-
ever any money was subsequently required for
repairs, we had to invite somebody to join the board
after allotment, as they say in company-promoting
circles. In course of time the syndicate grew to
such dimensions that it was found desirable to split
the members up into two divisions, as the cabin
was apt to get a little close before morning if
occupied by more than a dozen at a time.

30

PILED UP 31

We bought the Five Sisters in December, and it
was arranged that a party of us should go down to
Faversham at Christmas to sail her round to Hole
Haven, where we proposed to station her. Christmas
fell on a Thursday that year, and with four clear
days before us we journeyed down to Faversham
on the Wednesday evening. We expected to find
the Five Sisters afloat and ready for sea, but on our
arrival, late in the evening, discovered her lying
on the mud, and all her ballast, some ten tons of
scrap iron, stored in a shed. To do anything that
night was out of the question, and so we decided
to sleep ashore, being accommodated with difficulty
—for there were nine of us — at an inn near the creek.

On Christmas morning, after an early breakfast,
we commenced to get the ballast on board. Had
we been possessed of a fair measure of sense we
should have waited until there was sufficient water
to float the smack alongside the sea-wall, but that
would have entailed missing a tide and the sacrifice
of a day of our all too short holiday. And so we
determined to carry the ballast piece by piece
across the mud. The fisherman from whom we had
bought the boat procured for us the loan of three
wheelbarrows, and in these we transferred the iron
from the shed to the sea-wall. This was all plain
sailing, but then the real troubles of transport com-
menced. Between the shore and the Five Sisters
lay an expanse of soft mud some twenty yards wide,
across which the ballast had to be carried by hand.
Four of the party, being unlucky, were equipped
with sea-boots, and this duty naturally fell to

32 IN TIDAL WATERS

them. To walk in the slimy ooze of a tidal creek
is at the best of times no easy matter, but when
hampered with a burden of some half hundred-
weight of scrap iron in a basket, the task assumed
herculean proportions. Those who had no sea-
boots removed their nether garments and waded
out to the boat, having been told off to stow the
ballast as received. Then the booted brigade com-
menced a mud-larking performance that was
destined to last for some hours. The news that a
free show was in progress was soon carried into the
town, and in a short time the sea-wall was black
with people, who roared with laughter every time
some hapless wight slipped and dropped his load in
the mud. Many a pig of iron was lost in this way,
but we stuck doggedly to our task, and by three
o'clock in the afternoon the ballast was all on board,
and stowed beneath the floor-boards.

The vessel was now afloat and straining at her
anchor, and as we had but little daylight before us,
no time was lost in making sail. We had engaged a
smacksman to pilot us down the creek, and under
his direction set the whole mainsail, although there
was a hard wind from the north-east. Presently
we were roaring down the creek with lee decks
awash, four of us working the headsail sheets whilst
the others busied themselves with cleaning out the
hold that was to be our saloon. The tide was
ebbing hard, and had we touched we should have
probably remained aground until the following
afternoon. But our pilot handled the old smack
to perfection, and brought us to a safe anchorage

PILED UP 33

at the mouth of the creek just as the shades of
night were closing in.

After the pilot had been put ashore we com-
menced to prepare our dinner, which consisted of
the orthodox turkey and Christmas pudding. To
cook a good-sized turkey in a frying-pan over a
Primus stove is something in the nature of a feat,
but it was successfully accomplished. It was
obvious that the bird could not be cooked in its
natural state, but after some grisly work with a
jack-knife the limbs and most of the flesh were
transferred to the big pan, whilst the carcass was
hove overboard for the entertainment of the crabs.
Surrounded by a necklace of sausages and with
rashers of bacon laid lovingly on top, the bird was
cooked to a turn ; and after the lapse of well-nigh
twenty years that turkey lives in my memory as
the best I have ever helped to eat.

The crew of the Five Sisters at dinner must have
presented a strange sight. The cabin (anglice hold)
was destitute of furniture, and we sat about in
neglige costume upon the boards that still bore
more than a trace of mud and rust. Our amateur
skipper, by virtue of his office, sat upon an inverted
bucket and presided over the feast, endeavouring
to apportion the contents of the pan with fairness
and impartiality. A smoky hurricane lantern
suspended from the roof cast a sickly glare over the
scene. As the smack was rolling heavily, a boot
had been attached to the lantern to steady it, and
this boot was surreptitiously used as an ash-tray
by various members of the crew, to the subsequent

34 IN TIDAL WATERS

annoyance of the owner. Without, the night was
black as pitch, and, as the vessel rolled in the
Stygian waters, blocks clattered together and
halliards played a devil's tattoo against the mast.
The plaintive cry of plover and curlew, wafted across
the waters, added a note of melancholy to the sur-
roundings, but in no wise disturbed the revels in
the " saloon." It was at a late hour when, rolled
in blankets, we courted slumber upon the hard
boards.

We turned out in the morning to find that the
smack had dragged her anchor during the night,
and was hard and fast upon a mud flat. The tide
was ebbing, and as there was no prospect of getting
her off before noon, we dallied with our breakfast,
and then went ashore in the dinghy — a 17-ft. boat
that would easily accommodate the whole party.
The wind had died away almost completely, and
ere we returned a thick mist had settled over the
Swale. We had laid out the anchor before going
ashore and when we came back the Five Sisters was
afloat. The weather conditions were anything but
promising, but as the light breeze was fair, our
skipper, despite the fog, decided to make a start for
Hole Haven. With a big club-headed topsail aloft
and the balloon foresail boomed out as a spinnaker,
we managed to crawl over the flood, and, steering
by compass, proceeded down the Swale.

Leaving a couple of hands on deck to work the
ship, the rest of us went below for lunch. But our
meal was doomed to postponement, for we had
hardly sat down when an agonised yell from the

PILED UP 35

deck caused us to drop our enamelled iron plates
with a clatter and make a wild dash for the hatch.
There, within a few feet of our bowsprit end, was
the coastguard vessel Cadmus looming up out of
the fog. Fortunately we struck her a sidelong blow
and but little damage resulted. But the smack's
boom dragged along the vessel's side from stem to
stern, and there was a crash of breaking glass as
it encountered some windows in its passage. A
momentary glimpse of excited bluejackets running
along her deck, and the Cadmus was enshrouded
once more in a mantle of mist. This incident was
followed by a heated argument as to whether we
should bring up or continue our trip; but as we
had already wasted a good deal of time the majority
were in favour of going on. This point having been
decided, we returned to our belated lunch, and it
was after two o'clock when we relieved the watch
on deck.

Whilst we had been below the fog had increased
in density, and it was now as thick as a hedge. We
reckoned that we were somewhere in the neighbour-
hood of the Columbine Sand — treacherous waters in
thick weather— but with the confidence of youth
we kept on our course. Prudence certainly sug-
gested having the lead, but a search through the
vessel failed to produce such an implement, and so
we trusted to luck to keep us clear of the sands.
The wind had fallen light again, and, as progress
was very slow, most of the party retired to the nold
to play cards. Suddenly there was an ominous
scrunch beneath the vessel's keel, and a moment

36 IN TIDAL WATERS

later the dinghy charged into her stern. The Five
Sisters was hard and fast ashore on some sandbank
unknown. At first we thought but little of this,
as it was quite calm, and a sandbank out of the
way of passing traffic seemed a particularly safe
resting-place in a thick fog. But as it was just about
high water it was evident that we should be booked
to stay for the best part of twelve hours unless we
could refloat her at once. With much labour the
heavy bower anchor and chain were lowered into
the dinghy and laid out in the direction that
promised to yield most water, although the bottom
seemed very flat. But when we hove lustily on
the windlass bars the anchor came home without
moving the smack. As she had already taken a
pronounced list it was useless to try again, so we all
went below to tea.

Whilst thus occupied it occurred to some one
that the tides must be taking off, and a brief study
of the Nautical Almanac disclosed the horrible fact
that the next tide would be more than a foot less
than the one upon which we had taken the ground.
The discovery filled us with dismay, for there seemed
every chance of the Five Sisters being neaped for
ten days or more. The prospect was certainly not
alluring. We were due back in town on Monday
morning at the latest, and had already made
considerable inroads into our stock of provisions.

" We must lighten the boat at once," said the
skipper with decision, and sick at heart we set
about the job.

It was quite dark, and the work had to be carried

The work had to be carried on by the uncertain light of the
hurricane lantern."

[To face ptge 37.

PILED UP 37

on by the uncertain light of the hurricane lantern
in the hold and the riding light slung in the rigging.
Having prised up the floor-boards and secured the
dinghy alongside the smack, we proceeded to
transfer pigs of slimy rust-covered ballast from the
hold to the boat. As each pig had to be lifted
some five feet on to the deck and then gently
lowered into the dinghy, it was slow and back-
breaking work, and long ere the boat was fully
laden we wished we had never seen the Five Sisters
of Faversham. After several hours' hard labour
we desisted, having put as much weight into the
dinghy as we considered prudent.

When the tide had ebbed away and the smack
lay high and dry, we carried out the anchor and
buried it in the sand. Nothing more could be done
until high water at 4.30 a.m. the following day, and
the waiting was perhaps the worst part of the whole
business. Our " saloon " was no longer habitable,
as the floor-boards were up and evil-smelling water
lay deep in the bilge of the heavily listing vessel.
It was bitterly cold and the fog damp and clammy,
whilst the syrens of passing steamers added a note
of melancholy that got upon one's nerves. By
mutual consent we retired to the fo'c'stle, all nine
of us crowding into a space that was intended to
accommodate two, or three at the most. Packed
like sardines in a tin, there was barely room to move,
and the indescribable odour of paraffin cum sjale
bilge-water was nauseating. When to this was
added the smoke from many pipes, the atmosphere
of the fo'c'stle became intolerable, and soon drove

38 IN TIDAL WATERS

us out on deck again. Time seemed to stand still,
but there is an end to most things in this world and
slowly the night wore away.

In the early hours of the morning the water once
more lapped the keel of the smack, and at about
3.30 a.m. she gave a sudden jerk and stood upright.
According to the table the tide should be at its best
at 4.30 a.m., and about a quarter of an hour before
we began to heave on the windlass. Link by link
the cable came over the bow, but still the Five
Sisters did not move. All hands strained at the
bars with all their weight and strength and the
chain was stretched as taut as a bar of iron, but
the smack di'd not budge. Then, when hope had
almost deserted us, the pawls of the windlass began
to sing clank ! clank ! clank ! and we felt the
vessel move beneath our feet. Lord ! how we
toiled and sweated. Presently we unshipped the
bars and, tailing on to the chain, brought it home
hand bver fist. Then shipping the bars once more,
we gave a mighty heave and tore the anchor from
its bed.

The Five Sisters of Faversham was afloat and
under way once more, and we hastily set the fore-
sail to woo the light air that came from the west-
ward. Improvising a hand lead from a piece of
ballast and a rope, we felt our way into deep water
and then anchored to await the dawn.

As it began to grow light the fog dispersed and
we found ourselves off the Isle of Sheppey, but as
we could not make any progress until the tide began
to flood again, we re-stowed the ballast, and, having

PILED UP 39

made our saloon habitable once more, turned in to
snatch a few hours' sleep.

We resumed our voyage at eleven o'clock, when
the weather was clear and a nice breeze blowing
from south-west. Gradually we won our way into
the deep waters of the Thames and beat up to Hole
Haven without further misadventure. But for the
time being we were quite out of conceit with our
" yacht," and, leaving her in charge of the care-
taker of a powder hulk, we walked to Benfleet and
caught the last train up to town.

CHAPTER V

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS

THE morning was certainly not an inviting one
from a sailing point of view, as there was a strong
breeze accompanied by a mizzle of rain. The black,
threatening clouds hung low in the heavens, and
vicious squalls came at frequent intervals out of the
south-west. The Five Sisters, however, lay snugly
at her moorings in Hole Haven, and more than
one of her crew thought she had better remain
there. But, as some one remarked : "What is
the use of having a boat that is a boat if you do
not use her? Why," he added, " this is just the
day for the old Sisters, and we shall be able to
show the fancy yachts something."

The Five Sisters, of Faversham, was an old
bawley boat of some 25 tons measurement which
had been built in the early days of the last century.
We had formed a syndicate of nine to buy her,
and she had passed into our ownership for the
sum of £35, which included a 17-ft. boat in
excellent condition. At first we slept in the hold,
which was neither sweet nor dry, as the rain
percolated through the hatches, but as soon as
our financial resources permitted we converted the

40

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 41

hold into a large saloon. The appointments of
this apartment were of the type usually termed
severe. A wide bunk, guiltless of cushions, ran
down either side, and in the centre was a large
deal table surrounded by benches. At the forward
end of the cabin we had installed a large cooking-
range with two ovens, which had been picked up
for the proverbial old song.

The Five Sisters leaked more than a little, and
was as slow as a hearse in anything short of half
a gale, and as most of the block sheaves were
blind, the gear was uncommonly heavy to handle.
The capstan had to be pressed into service when
setting the heavy dressed mainsail, whilst most of
the crew had to go aloft and sit on the gaff when
we wanted to lower the sail.

We were all youngsters under twenty, with the
exception of our amateur skipper, who, being on
the wrong side of thirty, we regarded as quite
elderly. Having had a good deal more experience
of sailing than any of us, and being, moreover,
a heavy-weight boxer of some repute, no one
questioned his right to the post he had assumed as
a matter of course. His was a foreman's job, for,
beyond ordering the rest of us about, he did
practically no work at all. The navigation of the
ship, however, fell to him, and we soon had an
intimate knowledge of the various mudflats and
sandbanks which abound in the Thames Estuary,
having spent a good many hours aground on most
of them. Taking it all round, however, we had a
good deal of fun for our money.

42 IN TIDAL WATERS

The skipper having given his casting vote in
favour of getting under way, there was nothing
further to be said; so, pulling down a pair of
reefs in the mainsail, we slipped our moorings, and
with half a gale of wind on the beam the old boat
roared along towards Sea Reach, with her covering-
board well awash. As the flood was making, we
decided to go up river, and on clearing the bar
all hands got on to the sheets to bring the Five
Sisters to the wind for the beat up Sea Reach.
Feeling the full force of the vicious squalls, the
old bawley heeled over until her lee decks were
buried deep beneath the seething waters. Every
time she punched into a head sea she staggered
and trembled fom truck to keel, whilst blinding
showers of spray flew aft and cut our faces like
flails. But it was grand sailing, and even those
who had advocated remaining in Hole Haven soon
admitted that they would not have missed it for
worlds. The strong flood tide under the bawley 's
keel flattered her weatherliness, and she seemed
to fly past the objects ashore. It was a broad
reach through the Lower Hope, and with sheets
checked the old boat was at her best. We gradu-
ally overhauled a little fleet of stumpy barges,
and were highly elated at passing them, as it was
very seldom indeed that the Five Sisters came
across a craft that she could beat. On a reach
in a strong wind the bawley required two hands at
her tiller, and sometimes even three, as she was
more than a little hard-headed; but for the rest
of the crew there was nothing to do on this point

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 43

of sailing, so we retired below for a comfortable
smoke by the cabin fire. But we were soon called
on deck again to get the sheets aboard for the
beat through Gravesend Reach. This is one of
the busiest Breaches in the London river, and that
morning was full of craft of all types and nation-
alities. Several great steamers lay at the mooring
buoys off the town, and a large full-rigged ship
was proceeding up river in the wake of a pair of
fussy little tugs. Numerous small schooners and
barquentines, engaged in the coastwise trade, were
lying at anchor, whilst many barges, with their
mainsails brailed up, threaded their way through
the maze of shipping. It was an inspiriting sight,
and as we wended our way westwards we fre-
quently bore up a little to get a closer view of some
interesting craft of commerce.

After passing Northfleet Light we were able to
ease the sheets a little and reach up to Grays,
from whence we could fetch Greenhithe on the
starboard tack. By this time the tide had about
done, and we decided to bring up for lunch.

" We will hang on to that buoy," said the
skipper, pointing to a large mooring buoy, bobbing
about in the tideway near at hand. " We will
sail up to it, and one of you can jump on to the
buoy with a warp and make fast."

I was the hapless wight told off for this duty,
and, standing on the fore-deck with the end of a
bass warp in my hand, I stood ready to leap on to
the buoy. The skipper sailed the Sisters within a
few feet of the buoy, and, jumping on to it, I

44 IN TIDAL WATERS

speedily made fast to the iron ring, nearly losing
my balance in the process. But the skipper had mis-
judged the way the boat carried, and, forging ahead,
she snapped the warp as if it were a piece of string,
leaving me marooned on a mooring buoy in the
middle of St. demerit's Reach. Although the buoy
was quite large enough to support me, the strong
wind had knocked up a jabble of sea, and I found
it anything but a stable resting-place. As it
bobbed about it frequently dipped my legs under
water, and then the wash from a passing steamer
immersed me to the neck. Wet to the skin, and
with chattering teeth, I hung on for dear life what
time the old bawley was punching about in a vain
attempt to pick me up. At last, to my great
relief, I saw them anchor, and in a few minutes
the boat was sent away to take me off.

As soon as I got on board again I went below
to change into dry clothes, and, whilst thus
engaged, heard loud exclamations of dismay. I
put my head through the skylight to ascertain
the cause, and found that our boat — the joy of
our hearts — had gone adrift, somebody having
made a faulty hitch when securing the painter.
Then the skipper shouted, " Get the anchor," and
I hurried on deck to lend a hand. In the meantime
a waterman's boat had picked up our gig, and,
to our amazement, hoisted a sail and started to
tow her down river. Willing hands got the
anchor and made sail on the Sisters, and, filled
with feelings of rage and indignation, we gave
chase. Although they had seen the boat go

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 45

adrift, they evidently meant to take her to the
Receiver of Wrecks at Gravesend with a view to
salvage.

Soon the old bawley was roaring along before
a fair wind in pursuit ; but the quarry had a long
start, and it was not until the old Rosherville
Gardens were near at hand that we got within
measurable distance of the pirates. There were
many vessels anchored along the Gravesend shore,
and the watermen who had taken our boat,
seeing that we were close upon them, commenced
to dodge in and out amongst the craft brought up.
Nothing daunted, we followed in their wake, and
were but thirty yards astern when a violent squall
of wind and rain overtook us. Our two helmsmen
were quite unable to hold the Five Sisters, which
took charge and fouled a yacht at anchor. Our
bowsprit was making havoc of her rigging, and
our skipper leaped on her deck with knife in hand,
and hacking away at her running gear, soon cleared
the two vessels. As the bawley swung round to
the tide her bowsprit swept over a pretty little
launch and knocked out the latter's brass funnel,
which sank. Then we drifted down on to another
launch belonging to a missionary society. When
we tried to clear her we found her mooring chain
was firmly jammed between our rudder and stern-
post, and we were dragging her moorings rapidly
down the river.

The men who had seized our boat had in tne
meantime apparently changed their minds, and
decided to return her to us. Coming alongside,

46 IN TIDAL WATERS

one of the two climbed on board, whilst his mate
held their boat alongside the Sisters.

" Well, what do you want ? " asked our skipper,
with an angry glint in his eye.

" Thought you would give us a trifle for bringing
your boat back."

The skipper did — under the jaw — and the man
disappeared head first over the side, landing on
his back in their boat.

Dropping our anchor, we at last succeeded in
bringing up the bawley and her unwelcome con-
sort, and then we anchored the launch with our
kedge and warp. Tired out, and quite out of
conceit with our boat and everything connected
with her, we went ashore and put up at an hotel.
The remainder of the day was passed in inter-
viewing the owners of the damaged property. We
had to make good the gear of the yacht which we
had cut, replace the missionary launch's moor-
ings, and to pay for a new funnel for the other
launch that we had fouled. To crown all, the
skipper was called upon to compensate the water-
men to the tune of £2 to save a summons for
assault.

Taking one thing with another, our little trip
up river cost us a pretty penny and the syndicate
hovered on the verge of bankruptcy for many a
long day.

CHAPTER VI

BUYING EXPERIENCE

IN the light of an experience acquired by the
purchase of upwards of a score of yachts of all
sorts and sizes, I often wonder what could have
induced me to buy the Euryanthe. I suppose,
however, like other novices, I sacrificed my better
judgment to inclination, and, yielding to the
blandishments of the vendor, became the owner
of one of the worst death-traps that ever put to
sea on pleasure bent. As a matter of fact, I had
no serious thoughts of buying a yacht at that
time, but, happening to remark to an acquaintance
in a casual sort of way that I wouldn't mind having
a little cruiser if I could pick up a bargain, he
lured me into the office of a friend who had a boat
for sale.

The description I received of the Euryanthe was
certainly attractive, and the little vessel's eupho-
nious name was as pleasing to the senses as the
bouquet of a vintage wine. She was said to be
fast, handy, and a splendid sea-boat — was there
ever a small yacht offered for sale that was not
a splendid sea-boat? — as sound as a bell, and as
stiff as the proverbial church. Her sails and gear,
the vendor declared, were in perfect order, the
inventory of the most comprehensive description,

47.

48 IN TIDAL WATERS

and her internal accommodation superior to that
of any yacht of her tonnage afloat. She was
lying, ready for sea, in the Gravesend Canal, and
the price asked was only £30. Ere I left the office
I had consented to go and inspect her the following
day.

After some little searching I found the Euryanthe
surrounded by some dilapidated bawley boats
which afforded an effective foil to her shapely
lines. She evidently had been recently fitted out,
and her shining black top sides, snowy decks, and
tall golden spars glistening in the sunlight, quite
won my heart. Her dimensions, I gathered from
the particulars furnished me by the owner, were :
Length over all, 24 ft. ; L.W.L., 21 ft. ; beam, 6 ft. ;
and draught, 6 ft. These figures, however, con-
veyed but little to my mind, as my experience of
yachts at that time was a negligible quantity.

Having feasted my eyes on her shapely pro-
portions from various coigns of vantage, I boarded
her. The Euryanthe had the snuggest little cabin
imaginable. There was the usual sofa bunk on
each side, a swing table in the centre, and hanging
from the roof a lamp with a red silk shade. Over
the portholes in the coamings were cunning little
curtains of a similar hue, while a strip of carpet
on the floor imparted a finishing touch of homeli-
ness. On exploring the lockers and cupboards I
discovered that she was extremely well found.
There seemed to be everything on board that one
could reasonably want, even down to a huge soup-
tureen, which I considered superfluous on such

BUYING EXPERIENCE 49

a small craft. In the light of after events, how-
ever, I am inclined to think that tureen was one
of the most useful items in the vessel's inventory.
I was quite delighted with the Euryanthe, and ere
I went to bed that night she was mine.

I arranged to make my first venture in the
cutter on the following Saturday, proposing to
sail her down to Hole Haven, where I had decided
to station her. Whether I should engage a hand
for the trip, or rely solely upon my own efforts,
was a much-debated point. Prudence prompted
the former, but inclination the latter. My experi-
ence of yachts and yachting was distinctly limited.
I had certainly taken two or three trips in the
Thames Estuary in an old smack owned by a
syndicate of which I was a member, but my part
had been little more than that of passenger.
What little knowledge I had was theoretical
rather than practical, having been derived for
the most part from studying a handbook on
sailing. But it all seemed so simple that I decided
to take my courage in both hands and dispense
with professional assistance.

On the eventful day, accompanied by a friend,
I journeyed to Gravesend to join the Euryanthe.
Billy had never been yachting before, and evi-
dently regarded me in the light of an expert.
Although I had learnt the names of halyards and
their uses from my book, I had secret misgivings
about setting a cutter's sails for the first time with
another person, however uncritical, looking on;
so I sent Billy on a shopping expedition whilst I

50 IN TIDAL WATERS

hastened down to the boat to get her ready. It
was well I did so, for I was hardly on board ere
the dock-gates were opened.

" If you are going out this tide, sir, you must
hurry up," shouted the dock-master. In a
moment I was engaged in an unseemly scramble.
Working in desperate haste, 'midst shouts from
the dock-master and sundry loafers on the bank,
I at last moved from my berth, and with mainsail
only half set and jib hoisted upside down, made
for the entrance. With the wind on the beam it
was plain sailing, and save for an unfortunate
collision with a smack, that cost me a bowsprit
shroud, I got out without misadventure. Then I
threw a line to a man on the dock-head and lay
moored alongside the wall awaiting my companion.
For half a crown, the man who had moored the
yacht came on board and temporarily repaired
the broken bowsprit shroud. By the time this
was done and the sails properly set, Billy had put
in an appearance, and the man, having climbed
ashore, pushed the Euryanthe out into the tideway
with a long oar.

With the aid of a nice westerly breeze and a
snoring ebb, the cutter travelled in fine style, and
to my great delight passed several smacks and
stumpy barges. Gravesend Reach was looking its
best. Intermingled with numerous craft of com-
merce outward bound were bawley boats engaged
in shrimping, and in the distance a great four-
masted ship following in the wake of a fussy little
tug. The red-brown sails of barges, lit up by the

BUYING EXPERIENCE 51

evening sun, added a pleasing splash of colour to
the scene, and as I sat at the helm of my first
command I would not have changed places with
a Rothschild.

All went well until we entered the Lower Hope,
when, omitting to gybe the Euryanihe, she gybed
herself. The boom came over with considerable
weight, and the mainsheet, which was none too
sound, carried away. Fortunately it was the
standing part near the block that had broken,
and we were able to repair it with a knot. I
must confess, however, that the cutter performed
some remarkable evolutions whilst we were engaged
in reeving the sheet, which ultimately involved
us in an altercation with a passing bargee that was
neither profitable nor dignified. This contretemps
caused some little delay, and it was dusk ere we
arrived off Hole Haven. The entrance is a rather
treacherous one for strangers, but as I had been
given the most detailed instructions by some friends
who kept a yacht in the Haven, I hoped to get
in without mishap.

When we hauled our wind to stand in, it was
at once apparent that the Euryanthe was very
' tender." Although there was but a moderate
breeze, several planks of her lee decks were buried
beneath the seething water, and she griped so
badly that it was all I could do to hold her on her
course. Keeping well to the eastward as ^we
crossed the bar, we made the entrance in safety,
and as I had been told to bring up near the hard,
I sent Billy forward to stand by the anchor. We

52 IN TIDAL WATERS

had but a short distance to sail, and in a few
moments I shouted to my companion to let go.
There was a great splash, instantly drowned by
the roar of the chain through the hawse-pipe. On
rushed the Euryanthe until the chain had all run
out. Then she snubbed violently, and Billy took
a header off the fore-deck into the water. Never
shall I forget the shout of laughter that came from
my friends, who were watching us from the sea-
wall. It was certainly a rather sensational entree,
but every one enjoyed it immensely except Billy,
who climbed out spluttering and vowing venge-
ance. He soon recovered his equanimity, how-
ever, and whilst he changed his clothes I stowed
the sails, preparatory to going ashore.

The Lobster Smack Inn was famous amongst
Thames yachtsmen in the early 'nineties for
excellent fare, and my first meal of home- cured
ham and fresh eggs under " Becky's " hospitable
roof still sticks in my memory. There was a great
gathering of yachtsmen in the bar parlour that
Saturday night, and it was late ere we turned out
to go afloat. My friends volunteered to put us
on board, and we rowed off in their dinghy. But
where was the Euryanthe ? Every moment we
expected to see her tall mast silhouetted against
the sky; but we looked in vain. At length we
found her high and dry ashore and listing outwards.
It will be remembered that when bringing up I
had allowed the whole scope of chain to run out,
and she had evidently been blown out of the narrow
channel in which she was lying and taken the

BUYING EXPERIENCE 53

ground on the flat at the side. She lay over at
a great angle, and with her narrow beam and
deep draught there seemed very little prospect of
her lifting to the tide on the flood.

Acting on the advice of my friends, we took up
two of the cabin floor boards and nailed them
over the lower side of the well, and, having
secured an old sail over this temporary cover, sat
on the heavily listed yacht to await the rising of
the tide. At 2 a.m. the water was lapping on the
deck, and half an hour later had reached the top
of the coaming, but still the Euryanthe showed no
signs of lifting. We had pinned the dinghy down
to the lee-side of the yacht, and expected to see
the latter move every moment. But in the mean-
time the water was pouring through the makeshift
well-cover, and Billy and I had to turn to and
bail. It was then that I discovered the extreme
utility of that big soup-tureen. It made a noble
bailer, and, ably backed by Billy with the bucket,
we must have put tons of water back into its
proper place. At last, when we were almost
exhausted, the Euryanthe gave a little jump and
began to lift rapidly. In a quarter of an hour
the deck was clear of water, and we were able to
remove the planks from the well. Our friends,
having instructed us to heave in some chain when
she floated, then took their departure.

We got the cutter afloat again without furtker
trouble ; but oh ! the state of the cabin. Every-
thing was soaked, and to sleep on the cushions
was out of the question. After a couple of hours'

54 IN TIDAL WATERS

fitful slumber on the hard locker lids, we could
stand it no longer, and securing a passage ashore
in a passing boat, went to the inn for breakfast.
A good meal cheered us up a little, and about
ten o'clock we returned on board with the idea
of drying the cabin gear. We were soon joined
by our friends, who rowed off from their yacht
to inspect the Euryanihe by daylight. The floor-
boards which had been removed the previous night
had not been replaced, and one of our visitors,
producing a knife, began to test the timbers.

" Why, this boat's as rotten as sin," he exclaimed.
" Look here!"

And he drove his knife-blade half-way through
one of the floors.

I then knew why she had been sold for such a
low figure. Almost every part of her had been
attacked by dry rot, and she would have been dear
at any price. And that was not her only frailty,
for she leaked like a sieve. We pumped her out
four times in the course of the day, and when we
left her in the afternoon, to return home, I was
quite out of conceit with my first yacht.

When I arrived at Hole Haven the following
Saturday all that could be seen of the Euryanthe,
was the top of her masthead, and, full of anger,
I sought the man in whose charge I had left her.
" Why haven't you pumped her?" I demanded;
" I told you she made a little water."

" Why ain't I pumped 'er? Well, if you think
I'm a-goin' to sit up all night pumping the bloomin'
Thames through 'er, for three bob a week, I ain't."

BUYING EXPERIENCE 55

With which pertinent, or perhaps impertinent,
remark he left me.

By pinning two barges' boats down to the yacht
at low water we succeeded in refloating her, and
she was eventually berthed in a rill on the saltings.
What with this, and the cost of cleaning her out
and having the gear dried, I spent pounds on
the boat. Further expense was incurred in having
her caulked and repainted, and by the time she
was again ready for sailing, I must have spent
a £10 note on her.

I had one more trip in the Euryanthe, sailing
her round to Burnham. The passage, owing to
various mishaps, occupied two days. I still have
a lively recollection of the miserable night I spent,
anchored near the Swin Middle lightship, with a
fresh easterly breeze and a procession of steamers
passing perilously close to us. The pump and
riding light between them engaged my attention
thoughout the night, whilst my two companions
slept and snored like pigs in the cabin.

I left her at Burnham, and it was with feelings
of positive relief that I heard, two or three days
later, that she had been run down and sunk by a
barge. That was the last of the cutter Euryanthe.
I sold the wreck for the sum of ten shillings after
salving the spars and sails, and the waterman who
bought her, chopped her up for firewood. Sic
transit gloria mundi !

CHAPTER VII

"TIERCEL" AGAIN

BY the loss of the Euryanthe I was left without a
yacht, although the salvage had yielded sufficient
spars, sails, and gear to equip a craft of some five
tons measurement. Obviously, the thing to do
was to buy a hull of about that tonnage in which
to put them, always supposing that I could find
one. " Why not buy the old Tiercel ? " suggested
Anthony ; " you could scrap her rotten gear and
substitute Euryanthe' s, which would fit her like a
glove ; you would then have quite a decent boat
for next door to nothing as we would sell her
cheap." This struck me as quite a sound idea, for
the syndicate having bought the Five Sisters had
no further use for their old love, which had been
placed in a mud berth at Hole Haven. So I
offered them a £10 note for the boat, and they
accepted so readily that I felt rather sorry I had
not said shillings instead of pounds.

Now, as I say, the Tiercel was lying at Hole
Haven whilst all the gear salved from the wreck of
Euryanthe was stored at Burnham-on-Crouch, and
ere my new purchase could be refitted it was
necessary to get her round to Burnham. Time
after time I attempted to make the passage, but
invariably found myself back at Hole Haven,

56

6 TIERCEL' AGAIN 57

Week after week the wind blew from the eastward
and the long plug to windward down to the
Whittaker Beacon was more than the unweatherly
old craft could manage on the tide. Only at one
week-end were the weather conditions at all
favourable for the trip; and then, as luck would
have it, I had to put back owing to an accident.

I was accompanied on that occasion by a brother
of Anthony's and we made capital progress until
near the Maplin Lighthouse. Then my companion,
anxious to get something from below, lifted the
fore-hatch and jumped down into the fo'c'stle.
Unfortunately the caretaker had left a broken
bottle lying about, and my luckless mate, who was
wearing neither shoes nor socks, jumped on to
it, sustaining a deep gash right across the sole of
his foot. Having severed an artery he bled like
the proverbial stuck pig and in a little while the
boat resembled a shambles. All my efforts to
staunch the bleeding proved unavailing and so
there was no alternative but to put back. The
TierceVs stock of first-aid appliances was of the
scantiest description, but I made shift to bandage
the wound with the grease-proof paper off the
butter, a tea-cloth (somewhat soiled) and a towel.
Having no dinghy I thought we might have
difficulty in getting ashore at Southend, and so we
held on for the Haven.

On arriving at our destination we were lucky
enough to find the Five Sisters on her moorings,
and plenty of assistance was available for get-
ting my wounded friend ashore. Our troubles,

58 IN TIDAL WATERS

however, were by no means over, for on landing we
were unable to procure a conveyance of any kind.
To cut the story short, we carried Anthony's
brother to Benfleet on a hurdle and managed to
get him patched up in time to catch the last train
to town. After this experience I had almost aban-
doned hope of getting the boat round to the Crouch
before the spring, but determined to make one
more attempt at Christmas, if I could find any one
sufficiently enterprising to give me a hand.

The mere mention of yachting at Christmas is
sufficient to send a cold shiver down the back of
a landsman, but provided that one be suitably
clothed for the part, and creature comforts not
neglected, there are many worse ways of spending
the festive season. To tear oneself away from the
cosy fireside, when the snow lies thick upon the
ground, certainly requires some little resolution;
but he who takes his courage in both hands and
puts to sea will, weather permitting, derive more
benefit and enjoyment from his holiday than would
be the case if he stayed at home and pandered to
the flesh-pots of the orthodox Christmas. But it
is essential that the weather be decently fine, for
fog, snow, or gales of wind are apt to upset the
best-laid plans.

It was late on Christmas Eve when we arrived
at Benfleet, and even then a three-mile tramp
across Canvey Island, heavily laden with packages
of all sorts and sizes, lay before us. Billy had
brought a turkey, which had unexpectedly been
given to him in the City ; Jack laboured under the

'TIERCEL' AGAIN 59

weight of a kit-bag stuffed almost to bursting
point with good fare; whilst my contribution to
the commissariat department included a large
Christmas pudding, and sundry mince-pies, com-
mandeered from the larder at home. It was
evident that we had no intention of starving.
What with the slippery state of the frost-bound
road and frequent stoppages to adjust our luggage,
the journey across the island was a slow one; and
it was after eleven o'clock ere we reached the Haven
and met the man who, for the sum of half-a-crown
a week, condescended to take charge of the Tiercel
in our absence.

" Almost given you up, gentlemen," was his
greeting. " I've had the yacht ashore for a scrub
and just laid her off. You will find her just by
the Swift, and your dinghy's at the hard."

ic Is she all ready for us, Jackson? " I inquired.

" Yes, sir, yes — you will find water and oil on
board and everything you want."

" All right, good-night."

" Good-night, sir, and a happy Christmas."

Then we scrambled down the hard to the dinghy,
not, however, without misadventure, for Billy
slipped on the slimy planks and dropped the turkey
in the water. But with the aid of a dinghy paddle
we rescued the bird ere it drifted out of reach.
Having packed ourselves and our luggage into the
somewhat crank 8-ft. dinghy, we paddled gently
out to the Tiercel, which rode to her anchor near
at hand.

It was a glorious moonlight night, and we had

60 ; IN TIDAL WATERS

decided to get under way at once and drop down
to Southend. But when we got on board we
found that wretched rudder was unshipped again.
This usually happened when the boat took the
ground, as the rudder dropped an inch or two below
the keel, which was quite sufficient to lift it off
the silly little pintles upon which it was hung.
Nobody being anxious to go overboard, the only
method of shipping it whilst the boat was afloat,
we decided to defer our start until the morning.
Rolling ourselves in our blankets, we turned in
" all standing," as they say, on the cushionless
bunks.

One does not sleep very soundly under such
conditions, and about two o'clock the following
morning I was awakened by exclamations of
unmistakable annoyance from Billy, who was
sleeping on the floor.

"What's up?" I inquired.

" Why, I am lying in water," was the reply.

Groping for the matches, I struck a light, and
sure enough there was an inch or more of water
all over the cabin floor.

" She's sprung a leak," I said. " We must put
her ashore at once ! v

A few moments later we had broken out the
anchor, and, setting the foresail, let her blow ashore
on to the sandy bar. Then we started to pump,
turn and turn about, to keep the water under.
For two mortal hours we engaged in the back-
breaking occupation. The leak was evidently low
down, and the boat had almost dried out ere we

* TIERCEL' AGAIN 61

were able to desist from our miserable task.
When the sand was uncovered we got over the
side, and went exploring with the riding light.

We found the leak in the run of the vessel, and
at the same time discovered that our caretaker
had played us a rascally trick. He had evidently
let the boat sit on her anchor when he laid her
ashore for scrubbing purposes, and, to repair the
damage, had stuffed a thole-pin and a bit of rag
into the hole. Had not our start been delayed
by the unshipped rudder, our Christmas trip might
have ended in a fatality.

Having located the leak, we repaired the damage
temporarily with the lid of a packing-case, a piece
of an old sail, and some wire nails. Then, having
shipped the rudder and laid out the anchor, we
turned in again until daylight.

Christmas Day broke clear and fine, with a nice
sailing breeze from the northward. The boat was
almost afloat when we turned out, and after break-
fast we started for Burnham, reaching down
towards Southend over the last of the flood. It
was bitterly cold, but with smooth water and
enough wind to heel the boat to her deck, under a
jib-headed topsail, sailing was most exhilarating.
But the Tiercel was not destined to make Burnham
that day, for as we approached Shoebury, it
occurred to me to pull up a floor-board to see if
the boat was still leaking. I found a good deal, of
water swishing about in the bilge, and although
it was nothing to cause alarm, we came to the
conclusion that, in view of the very temporary

62 IN TIDAL WATERS

nature of the repairs we had effected, it would be
folly to venture very far. So we decided to have
a sail round the Mouse and then put into Queen-
borough for the night. And this programme we
carried out, finishing the day's sailing with a trip
up the Medway. The shades of night were com-
mencing to close in as we let go the anchor off
Queenborough, and in the uncertain light it was
not easy to estimate our distance from the shore.
Consequently we brought up a good deal farther
out than we should have done, and the boat lay
in the fairway, although we were quite oblivious
to the fact.

Then we directed our energies to the preparation
of the Christmas dinner. How to cook a 12-lb.
turkey in a frying-pan was a puzzle that might
have given an experienced chef pause to think,
but we, having done it before, soon solved the
problem. The bird having been dismembered, the
legs, wings, and slices from the breast were placed
in the pan together with some sausages, bacon,
and butter, the whole being fried gently over an
oil stove for two hours. The pudding, which
had already been cooked, was boiled in a large
stewpan for a like period to warm it up. This
method of cooking may not sound very appetising,
but the result was beyond reproach, and when
Billy added a bottle of champagne as coping-stone
to the feast, we would not have exchanged dinners
with any man.

The crew of the Tiercel at dinner must have
presented a somewhat strange spectacle to any one

'TIERCEL' AGAIN 68

unfamiliar with the manners and customs of those
who go down to the sea in five-tonners. The
cloth was laid on one of the bunks, as we had no
table, and the crew sat or sprawled on the floor
as fancy dictated. A hurricane lantern cast its
sickly gleam upon the appointments of the feast,
whilst the ruddy glow of a coal fire in the bogey
stove added a homely touch to the picture. A
bowl of rum punch simmered on the stove in readi-
ness for future consumption, and — tell it not in
Gath — the enamelled iron washing-up bowl had
been pressed into service for the purpose. But,
as the old proverb teaches, " There's many a slip
'twixt the cup and the lip," and the fates decreed
that our acquaintance with that punch should not
extend beyond the smell.

While in the midst of our merry meal the
Tiercel suddenly heeled over under the impact of
a violent blow. There was a rending crash of
breaking spars, and all three of us were flung in
a heap on to the dinner-table. We scrambled up
as best we could, and stood not on the order of our
going. The cabin doors, which opened inwards,
were closed, but we burst through them as if they
were of cardboard, for we thought the Tiercel was
sinking. We emerged from the cabin in time to
see a great barge slithering away into the dark-
ness, a man callously shoving lier clear from our
wrecked vessel with a quant. She had evidently
run right on top of us, and our mast with all its
attendant gear lay over the side. We shouted
to the barge to stand by us, but her crew

iW %

64 IN TIDAL WATERS

answered never a word, and she disappeared into
the night.

Hauling our little dinghy alongside in readiness
for any energency, we took stock of the damage.
Fortunately the hull remained intact, but a clean
sweep had been made of the top-hamper, and
spars and gear lay over the side.

Our nerves could stand no more, so getting what
gear we could on deck, and lashing the rest along-
side, we towed the wrecked Tiercel on to the mud,
and left her. Then we fled to the nearest inn,
and passed the night in security beneath its
hospitable roof.

After some little trouble I persuaded a bargee,
who was bound up the river to London, to tow
the Tiercel back to Hole Haven, but it cost me a
sovereign. And so once more, with the unerring
instinct of a homing pigeon, the old boat returned
to her usual anchorage.

Being now without a mast, the Tiercel could
not of course make the passage to Burnham, and
so I set about having the gear sent round to Hole
Haven, wondering why I had not thought of this
simple expedient before. I went down to Burn-
ham in search of a barge to bring the stuff round,
but failed in my quest. But whilst having tea
at a hotel, there came to me an ancient mariner,
who had heard that I was looking for a boat to
take some gear to the Thames. It appeared that
he had what he was pleased to call a smack, but
she was the weirdest - looking craft one could
imagine. Personally I should have been sorry to

'TIERCEL' AGAIN 65

venture outside the river in her, but the owner
seemed quite confident that he could undertake
the job and I gave him £2 to deliver the gear at
Hole Haven as soon as possible, somewhat foolishly
paying him in advance.

I heard nothing more of the man or my gear for
three weeks, and as the weather was bad feared
that he had come to grief. But one Saturday,
towards the end of January, he came sailing quietly
into the Haven with all my gear piled up on deck.
It appeared that he had stepped ashore at Foulness
for a drink, and having £2 in his pocket it had taken
him some time. But at last, after many months,
I was in a position to start work on refitting the
Tiercel, and my chum Billy having joined me in
her ownership we started operations forthwith.

CHAPTER VIII

FOG-BOUND

EASTER fell particularly late that year, and our
expectations of decent weather for the opening
cruise of the season were not perhaps altogether
unreasonable. Our experiences at that period of
the year had in the past been so unfortunate,
owing to the vagaries of the English climate, that
we had registered a vow never again to fit out
before May. But hope springs eternal in the
human breast, and as the dreary winter dragged
its course we began to take a more optimistic
view of the matter.

" Hang it all," said Billy, " the weather can't
be so very bad in the middle of April, and by the
law of averages a fine Easter is about due." So
I listened to the voice of the tempter and fell.

Neither Billy nor myself was overburdened with
money, and what fitting out the Tiercel required
had to be done by our own hands. From the
early days of March, therefore, we spent our week-
ends on the yacht, which lay in a mud berth at
Hole Haven, busily engaged with paint-brush and
scraper, what time fond sisters at home burnt the
midnight oil in fashioning dainty curtains and
cushion covers to adorn the tiny cabin of the
Tiercel.

66

FOG-BOUND 67

She was a poor thing as yachts go, having
originally been a ship's lifeboat, to which some
misguided individual had, in a moment of enthu-
siasm, added a cabin and a false keel. After
passing through many vicissitudes, she had, by
the exchange of a £10 note, come into the owner-
ship of Billy and myself, and in the light of a more
extensive knowledge of yachts I am now of the
opinion that the vendor had the best of the
bargain. But a season or two spent in her was a
liberal education, for the man who could sail the
Tiercel was qualified to sail anything.

The boat certainly needed an extensive overhaul
before she was fit to go afloat, for her appearance
was disreputable and her bottom not altogether
tight. But much can be done by a judicious use
of paint and putty, whilst lead tingles applied to a
yacht's bottom with discretion will keep out a deal
of water. I should doubt, however, whether any
craft has ever put to sea with so many tingles on
her bottom as did the Tiercel that Easter. By the
time we had finished with her, the under-water
body had all the appearance of a patchwork quilt ;
but the patches were hidden from view, except
when the vessel was heeled in a strong breeze, and,
as Billy very truly remarked, there is a skeleton
in every closet. And this leak-stopping was by no
means the end of our carpentering achievements,
for a new rudder-post graced the stern of yie
Tiercel when next she put to sea on pleasure bent.
This was perhaps the most ambitious job we
tackled, and for a long time we were baffled by

68 IN TIDAL WATERS

our inability to find a suitable piece of timber.
When we had almost abandoned the search in
despair, we one day happened upon a beauti-
ful oak gate-post, and before another day had.
dawned the new rudder-head was an accomplished
fact.

We towed the Tiercel out into the tideway on
the Sunday before Easter, and when she lay at her
moorings ready for sea we could not but admire
our handiwork. The yacht had never before looked
so smart. Her shining topsides reflected the glory
of the setting sun, the black enamel contrasting
pleasantly with the white-painted decks. The
varnish glistened upon the newly scraped rail and
the inside of the bulwarks, picked out in a delicate
shade of duck-egg green, added a pleasing splash
of colour, which certainly enhanced the general
effect. A transformation, moreover, had been
wrought below decks. The low bunks were now
covered with comfortable cushions, fashioned out
of an old mattress cajoled from a confiding parent,
and cretonne curtains of subtle hue separated
the cabin from the fore-peak. A " remnant " of
linoleum made the floor look neat and tidy, whilst
the old hurricane lantern, that in the past had
lighted the cabin by night, had given place to a
neat gimballed lamp screwed to the mast.

As we journeyed to Hole Haven on the Thursday
evening preceding Easter we congratulated our-
selves upon the mildness of the weather, contrasting
it with the howling gale that had curtailed our
cruise on a similar occasion the previous year.

FOG-BOUND 69

But this feeling of satisfaction was destined to be
shortlived, for on arrival at Benfleet, the nearest
station to the Haven, we discovered that our
stores, despatched the previous day, had not
turned up. The next goods train was due the
following morning, but Good Friday being a dies
non, so far as the goods department was concerned,
there was no prospect of obtaining our stores
before Saturday. After a brief consultation we
decided to have them sent on to Burnham, think-
ing that we could procure sufficient food at the inn
at Hole Haven for the passage round to the
Crouch. Having settled this matter, we trudged
across the Island to the Haven, and after a late
supper went on board, taking with us some bacon,
a few eggs, a loaf, and a piece of cheese. This was
all we were able to procure in the provision line,
but, with the addition of a few bottles of ale, we
thought it would suffice until we picked up our
stores at Burnham on Saturday.

When we got under way on the Friday morning
there was the merest draught of air from the
westward; and a cold, clammy mist hung over
the waters of the estuary. Labouring hard at the
sweeps, we rowed the Tiercel out into the tideway,
and then let her drift on the ebb that had just
commenced to run. Objects were not easily dis-
tinguished, but presently we made out through
the haze the spidery form of the Chapman Ligljt-
house rising out of the water like a spectre on
stilts; and resorting to the sweeps we pulled the
Tiercel farther from the shore in order to get more

70 IN TIDAL WATERS

tide and to make sure of clearing the long pier at
Southend.

We expected every moment to see the sun break
through the haze, which we regarded as merely
the precursor of a fine day, but, far from clearing,
the weather began to get thicker. Then, just after
we had passed Southend Pier, great banks of dense
yellow fog rolled up and blotted everything from
view. There is an uncanny feeling about sailing
in a fog that is not altogether pleasant, and had
not our early arrival at Burnham been a matter
of the first importance we should have anchored
until the weather cleared. Away to starboard the
fog-horn of the Nore Lightship blared out its note
of warning, whilst all around could be heard the
syrens of many steamers feeling their way down
the London river. They made one think of a flock
of lost lambs bleating for their mothers, and the
illusion was heightened by the occasional tinkle of
the bell of some ship at anchor. And so, with
our hearts in our mouths, we drifted into the great
unknown, the sound of human voices close at hand
suggesting from time to time perils from which we
narrowly escaped. But we were soon to learn that
this, the main artery of the world's commerce, was
no place for such erratic wanderings as ours. It
came upon us so suddenly that we could not lift
a hand to avert the disaster. Without the slightest
warning the Tiercel was carried by the swirling
tide across the bows of a big schooner, and lay
spitted on the latter's jib-boom. It was a moment
of wild excitement. The yacht listed until the

FOG-BOUND 71

water poured over the coamings into the well, and
we feared that she would founder. Then, with a
rending crash, the topmast went by the board,
and the Tiercel righted a little. Willing hands
came to our aid, and several of the schooner's
crew, swarming out along her jib-boom, commenced
to hack away at our rigging with knives. At last
the yacht swung clear, and, bumping all along the
schooner's side, slithered away astern.

Our vessel, in whose appearance we had taken
so much pride, now looked a sorry wreck. Her
new paint had suffered severely, her rigging was
in a hopeless state of confusion, and the topmast
lay over the side. But we were only too thankful
for our escape, and, hauling the broken spar, with
its tangle of gear, on to the deck, we got out the
sweeps and slowly and sadly rowed the boat on to
the Shoebury flats and let go the anchor. Having,
after an hour's knotting and splicing, managed to
get the gear into some sort of order again, we
resumed, our journey in the fog. Punting along
in shallow water with the sweeps, we made fair
progress until the young flood, gaining strength,
caused us to bring up. Then, retiring to the cabin,
we threw discretion to the winds, and had a good
square meal. By the time we had satisfied our
hunger considerable inroads had been made into
our scanty store of provisions. The position was
getting serious. We had but the vaguest idea as
to where we were, the fog showed no signs of
lifting, and we had food for perhaps two decent
meals. It was obvious that we must be very

72 IN TIDAL WATERS

sparing with the provisions, and so we decided that
we would not have another meal that day. Lying
at anchor, wrapped in a thick yellow fog, became
more and more monotonous as the day advanced,
and to escape the pangs of hunger, we turned in
at seven o'clock.

We awoke the following morning, after sleeping
the clock round, to find the same miserable con-
ditions of weather There was not a breath of air
to stir the face of the waters, and the fog lay like
a pall above us. We had the last of our eggs and
a wretchedly inadequate supply of bread-and-
butter for breakfast, and then settled down to kill
time by playing cribbage. When the luncheon
hour arrived, we tightened in our belts and started
another game, although we were both heartily sick
of playing cards. And so the day wore on. At
7 p.m. we dined off the remnant of the cheese,
and then went to bed.

Sunday morning found us still in the same spot,
with the fog as dense as ever. Our breakfast con-
sisted of a slice of bread-and-butter and a glass of
ale apiece ; the remainder of the bacon — two rashers
— being reserved for dinner in the evening. This
day was a repetition of the previous one, with the
exception that we did not play cribbage — the mere
thought of it made our gorge rise. We counted
the hours to dinner-time, and when that long-
looked for moment arrived, how carefully we
cooked our miserly rations. And how good those
scraps of bacon tasted! But we had now eaten
the last of our food, and not a crumb remained.

FOG-BOUND 73

Our position would not bear thinking about, and
so, after a pipe, we got to bed.

The everlasting fog was still with us when we
turned out on Bank Holiday morning, but the
thought of another idle day was intolerable, and
although very doubtful as to our position, we
determined to try to get across the sands, round
Foulness, into the Crouch. We therefore got the
anchor at high water, and poled along over the
flats for a matter of three hours or more, when we
ran aground on a little knoll and stuck. It was
then one o'clock, and we should not float again
until nearly 7 p.m. We had not eaten for thirteen
hours, and felt weak and miserable from want of
food. Billy tried the effect of chewing tobacco to
stay the pangs of hunger, and was violently sick
in consequence. It was, as he plaintively remarked,
somewhat akin to jettisoning ballast from a ship
already flying light. After much calculation and
poring over the chart, we came to the conclusion
that we must be far enough to the eastward to
clear Foulness, if we could only get across the
sands, and so we decided to direct our course to
the northward when the Tiercel floated. And this
programme we put into execution as soon as the
yacht had water beneath her keel. As the tide
made we poled her along, constantly taking the
ground, but making steady progress to the north-
ward. For three hours we rowed and poled, until
we were fit to drop from sheer exhaustion. Then
the water suddenly began to deepen, and ten
minutes later we got three fathoms with the lead.

74 IN TIDAL WATERS

We were at last in the Whittaker Channel, and but
six or seven miles from Burnham. But the flood had
finished, and already the ebb was beginning to run.
Further progress was impossible for the time being,
and, having dropped the anchor, we turned in.

At about four o'clock on the Tuesday morning
I was awakened from a troubled sleep by the
sound of little waves playfully slapping the sides
of the Tiercel and, pushing back the slide, I looked
out. The fog had gone, and a smart northerly
breeze was stirring the waters once more into life.
" Get up, Billy," I shouted to my companion,
" there's a breeze and we are only just outside
the river." Ten minutes later we were under way,
and making short miles to our destination. Our
troubles were over, for at 5.30 a.m. the anchor
of the Tiercel bit the mud of the Crouch off Burn-
ham. We hastily lowered the sails, and, tumbling
into the dinghy, rowed ashore. As we entered the
High Street the first thing to meet our gaze was
a baker's shop. Pushing past a girl engaged in
cleaning the doorstep, we dashed to the counter
and fell to upon a tray of stale hot-cross buns.
It would be indecent to say how many we demo-
lished or how many bottles of fizzy lemonade
we drank, but the girl's look of astonishment still
lives in my memory. When we had taken the
rough edge off our hunger we . returned on board
to stow the sails and tidy up. Then, having
handed the yacht over to the care of a waterman,
we made for the nearest hotel and had the break-
fast of our lives,

CHAPTER IX

DOWN SWIN

IN the tender years of childhood, with pen
pointing to the right shoulder and much hard
breathing, we were wont to inscribe in our copy-
books the maxim " a little knowledge is a dangerous
thing," but a long and varied experience of cruis-
ing in small yachts has led me to rather doubt the
truth of that well-worn aphorism. One sees raw
and callow yachtsmen rush out, in their ignor-
ance, to meet dangers that would bring misgiving
to the hearts of older and wiser sailormen, and
yet they emerge scathless from the ordeal. In-
deed, when one considers how often in the course
of a season budding yachtsmen embark upon
adventures of peril, and how seldom such trips
are attended by untoward results, one is led to the
conclusion that a special Providence watches over
the welfare of the nautical tyro. But there is no
confidence like the confidence of youth, and, full
of the joy of living, the average youngster in the
early days of his sailing apprenticeship is ready
to go anywhere in anything that will float.

It was whilst in that embryonic stage of jny
sailing career that I consented to sail the Enchan-
tress from Rochester to Burnham one bitter day
in midwinter. I knew very little of her owner,

75

76 IN TIDAL WATERS

Vansittart, beyond the fact that he had previously
bought a boat from me, but it was evident that a
few sails in that old five-tonner, on the sheltered
waters of the River Crouch, had converted him
into an ardent yachtsman. His ideas, indeed,
showed a tendency to run away with him, and
within a week or two of his first setting foot on
a deck he had purchased the 25-ton yawl Enchan-
tress, with a view to living afloat. The yacht,
when he bought her, was laid up at Rochester,
but ignoring the cold and treacherous weather,
he had her roughly fitted out for the passage to
Burnham, where he proposed to station his new
purchase. Although comparatively wealthy, Van-
sittart was of an economical turn of mind, and
did not believe in paying for assistance that could
be procured for nothing. Rather than spend a
few pounds in engaging a professional crew for
the run he invited me, at that time a comparative
novice, to take charge of the vessel. I had never
sailed anything larger than a five-tonner, and,
although a trip down Swin in midwinter does not
offer any very alluring prospect, I jumped at the
chance of handling a vessel of such size. As,
however, I was unacquainted with the waters of
the Medway, I insisted upon taking a pilot as far
as Sheerness, to which Vansittart ultimately agreed.
The crew question presented some little difficulty,
as winter yachting does not appeal to every one,
but we eventually persuaded two luckless wights
to accompany us. Of these, Harry, a friend of
Vansittart, knew practically nothing of yachting,

DOWN SWIN 77

but had served his apprenticeship on a full-
rigged ship, whilst Billy had been my companion
in more than one foolhardy adventure, undertaken
in small craft of doubtful seaworthiness.

If the premium charged at Lloyd's to cover the
Enchantress against the risks and perils of the sea
during the voyage may be taken as a criterion,
the underwriters did not think much of the pro-
position, and I am pretty certain that the late
skipper of the yawl, who was to pilot us down the
river, thought still less of it when he saw the crew.
It was approaching midnight when we went on
board, and I could not see much of the boat, but
she seemed a big vessel after the tiny craft I was
accustomed to sail. Although ready for sea, she
still lay in her mud berth, and would not float
until after ten the following morning. Below
decks all was bright and cheerful, the ruddy glow
of the fire imparting to the saloon a homeliness
that went to one's heart. The paid hand, who
was sleeping on board for the last time, had
certainly made things very comfortable for us,
and we spent a very jolly hour or two before
turning in, as Vansittart played divinely upon the
violin.

The following morning I had an opportunity of
examining my command, and when I saw by day-
light the length of her spars, I was not without
secret misgivings as to the success of the trip.
She was one of the old-fashioned " plank-on-edge "
yachts, some 60 ft. over all, by 10 ft. beam, whilst
her draught, the skipper informed me, was 9 ft. 6 in.

78 IN TIDAL WATERS

She was very heavily sparred, and evidently
carried a great spread of sail, while the abnormal
length of her bowsprit indicated a large and
unhandy jib. I was pleased to notice, however,
that the topmast was stowed on deck, as also was
one of the two boats.

It was a bitterly cold morning, and a fresh
north-easter sighed in the rigging. Overhead, the
low-lying clouds moved briskly across the horizon,
and there was a look of snow in the sky. At
high water, under the direction of the skipper,
we laboriously warped the Enchantress from her
slimy bed, Vansittart distinguishing himself in the
process by casting off a chain from the bollard,
and losing overboard the second anchor and forty
fathoms of new galvanised chain. But they were
his own property, and if he liked to play ducks
and drakes with them he was quite welcome to
so far I was concerned. The owner's costume,
by the way, attracted a good deal of attention,
every passing barge greeting us with some ribald
jest. He wore a ready-made monkey jacket,
evidently bought at a slop shop, that extended
almost to his knees, oilskin trousers tucked inside
his sea-boots, and a very short oilskin coat, below
which the monkey jacket extended like a ballet-
dancer's skirt. For headgear he had a scarlet
stocking cap, and round his neck a muffler of
similar hue, the ends streaming out bravely in
the fresh morning breeze. But perhaps the piece
de resistance of this sartorial effort was a sheath-
knife, some eighteen inches long, strapped on his

DOWN SWIN 79

hip by a broad leather belt, which he wore outside
everything. Was ever such a twopenny pirate
seen outside of a Skelt melodrama ?

With a fine sailing breeze and a snoring ebb, we
made a quick journey down to Sheerness, where
the paid hand was to leave us. Feeling rather
cold, and thinking that a row would warm me up,
I rashly volunteered to put the man ashore.
Having hove the yacht to, we jumped into the
dinghy and made for the shore. A few minutes'
sharp rowing brought us to the pier, and as the
late skipper landed he remarked, as a parting
caution : " Take care she don't run away with
you, sir; you'll find a rare sea in the Swin, and
she's a boat that wants a lot of sailing."

As I started to row back to the yacht, my
shipmates let the foresail of the Enchantress draw,
and stood down to meet me, but, handling the
vessel in the most eccentric manner, they led me
a pretty dance. Time after time the yawl came
roaring down on top of me, and I had to pull
lustily to escape being run down. As the result
of these capers, I chased the yawl for the best
part of an hour ere I managed to scramble on
board. Indeed, I might have been chasing her
now had not their blundering put her " in irons."
I had hardly climbed on board when the snow,
that had long been threatening, began to come
down in earnest, and in a few minutes the shpre
and all marks were blotted out. Then the fog-
horn of the Nore Lightship began to blare its
warning notes, and we responded with feeble little

80 IN TIDAL WATERS

grunts from our own imperfect apparatus. With
the lead going all the time, we gradually crept
out into the Thames Estuary, but in the teeth of
such a blizzard it was wicked work. The driving
snow and sleet lashed our faces like whips, and
our limbs soon lost all power of feeling, and could
only be used like logs. As we left the Nore astern,
however, the squall passed over and the snow
ceased. But the wind increased in force, and the
Enchantress, with a plank of her lee deck awash,
was tramping along at a merry gait. As we had
a long board before us to the Essex shore, Van-
sittart and Billy, acting on my suggestion, went
below for l\jnch, leaving myself and Harry in
charge of the deck. With a strong weather-going
tide there was a nasty sea running, and the
Enchantress was already taking sufficient water on
board to necessitate the use of oilskins. I was
just struggling into my oilskin jacket, which, as
is usual with such garments, was in a hopeless
state of stickiness, when Vansittart clattered up
the companion ladder. With a pallid face he
staggered to the weather side. I, for my sins,
was to leeward of him, and — well, the result can
be readily imagined without going into unpleasant
details. But my wrath was soon changed to pity
when I saw what miserable case he was in. I have
seldom seen any one so hopelessly seasick, and
between the violent attacks of nausea that fre-
quently gripped him he lay groaning upon the
deck, praying to be put ashore. That, of course,
was out of the question, and we tried to persuade

DOWN SWIN 81

him to go below; but he wouldn't hear of it.
With the yawl diving deeper into the seas every
moment, he was certainly not safe, rolling about
on deck as he was, and with Billy's assistance I
got him aft to the taffrail and lashed him securely
to the mizzen-mast. And there the proud owner
of the Enchantress, looking a picture of abject
misery, was destined to sit for hours, for the rest
of us had other matters to occupy our minds and
hands.

For some time past the breeze had been piping
up, and it was now blowing a strong wind, which,
meeting the ebb, knocked up a sea as steep as a
cliff. The curling, breaking waves washed over
the Enchantress as if she were a half-tide rock,
filling the decks with water, and threatening to
carry away the gig, which was lashed bottom
upwards on the starboard side. Time after time
we had to tighten up the lashings, and with the
weather getting rapidly worse, the gig was the
source of constant anxiety.

The shades of night were now closing in upon
us, and the warning rays from the Maplin and
Sjwin Middle Lights appeared ahead. We got out
the side lights, but found there were no wicks in
them, and so had to pursue our way without the
prescribed lanterns, a menace both to our own
safety and that of others. We ought to have
shortened sail long before, but could not find the
reef tackle, and so we still staggered along under
the whole mainsail. The yacht was frequently
buried to the sky-lights in the seething waters,

82 IN TIDAL WATERS

and it was all Billy and myself at the helm could
do to hold her on her course. Vansittart seemed
to have subsided into a state of dumb misery,
and we had almost forgotten his existence, whilst
Harry braved the elements on the fore-deck,
working the headsail sheets, Billy running forward
to give him a hand every time we went about.

Then, as we approached the Swin Middle light-
ship, disaster overtook us, for the Enchantress,
getting out of hand in a squall, got "in irons."
Vessels of her type, having a tremendous grip on
the water forward, are very difficult to get going
again when once stopped, and whilst we were
engaged in trying to coax her off the wind, Billy
looked up and suddenly shouted, " My God !
There's a steamer right on top of us." We howled
and yelled in chorus, but on she came with her
three lights open. Then, slightly altering her
course, the great liner, ablaze with lights, passed
within a few yards of us. But the aftermath, in
the shape of her wash, was our undoing, for a
huge, curling wave broke with a mighty roar
right over us. Billy and I were thrown off our
feet, but saved ourselves by hanging on to the
tiller lines. Then the yacht seemed to shake
herself free from the avalanche of water, and
as it passed we struggled to our feet. To our
horror we discovered that both Harry and the
gig had disappeared. The boom was banging
wildly overhead, and jib and foresail slatted in
the breeze with a violence that made itself heard
above the howling of the wind in the rigging.

DOWN SWIN 83

Sick at heart, I looked astern and shouted. A
feeble answer came out of the blackness of the
night.

" Perhaps he has caught the dinghy," said
Billy, and, grabbing the painter of. the little boat
that followed in our wake, we hauled her up hand
over fist. To our unutterable relief we found
Harry clinging to the stern, and soon pulled him
on board. Sending him below for a change of
clothing and a stiff tot of rum, Billy and I got the
yacht on her course, and we were soon threshing
down Swin again.

Gradually we won our way to the Whittaker
Gas buoy, and then it was a fair wind into the
Crouch. Running up the Whittaker Channel on
a dark night at low water, in a craft drawing
9 ft. 6 in., would be anxious work for even an expe-
rienced yachtsman, but our joy at getting a fair
wind obliterated all thoughts of danger. Having
but little confidence in my ability to steer an exact
compass course, I decided to work along the sands
with the lead, standing in until we got two fathoms,
and then sheering off again. This, of course,
would entail frequent gybing, and, being so short-
handed, we thought it best to check the boom
over the quarter, and settle the peak of the main-
sail a little. Even with so little drift of sheet,
the heavy boom came over with a rare bang every
time we gybed, but, fortunately, the gear was
good, and nothing parted. And so we felt*our
way into the land, and, more by luck than judg-
ment, managed to keep clear of the treacherous

84 IN TIDAL WATERS

sands. When well inside the Crouch we luffed
head to wind and anchored for the night. Dead
beat and numbed with cold, we did not attempt
to stow the mainsail, The canvas was as stiff as
a board, and all we could do was to lower the sail
on deck and secure it with one or two gaskets,
whilst the jib and foresail were lashed into a bundle
on the fore-deck. Then we went below and,
finding the fire out, turned in cold and supperless.
The following morning was bright and sunny,
with a gentle southerly breeze, and, after a late
breakfast, we got the anchor and reached up to
Burnham. As soon as we had picked up a moor-
ing, Vansittart went ashore, and, so far as I know,
has never since set foot upon the deck of a yacht.
Anyhow, the Enchantress was offered for sale
within the week, and shortly afterwards left the
country. The rest of us still continue to sail
boats, and have had many an exciting cruise
together; but, looking back down the vista of
years, I can recall no occasion on which Provi-
dence was so good to us as during that memorable
trip down Swin in the Enchantress.

CHAPTER X

IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE

PLEASE do not suppose that Jevons was a
particular friend of mine. Far from it, for I had
only met him casually in the City. That he was
a shrewd man of business I knew to my cost,
for whenever pitted against him in the way of
commerce I had invariably come off second best.
But what of that ? In these strenuous days of
keen competition, when one has to fight like a
rat in a pit for a bare living, there is no time for
vain regrets. One merely thrusts a fresh iron into
the fire and tries one's best to get it hot. Jevons
and I, however, soon discovered that we had a
common interest in yachting, and seldom met
without talking " boats " for a few minutes.

I had not seen him for, I should think, nearly
a year, when one day he came and sat down by
me in a certain unpretentious little restaurant,
far famed amongst City men for the excellence
of its viands. He greeted me with effusion.

" Hullo," he cried, " you are just the man I
want."

" Well, that's eminently satisfactory," I replied.
" What can I do for you ? "

" Why, I'm selling the Curlew, and have got
a fellow coming down to try her on Saturday.

85

86 IN TIDAL WATERS

He appears, however, to know very little of sail-
ing and I want some one to give me a hand.
The boat is a ten-tonner you know."

" The prospective purchaser is a bit of a mug,
eh? " I suggested.

" I hope so," replied Jevons with refreshing
candour.

As my craft was laid up, and I had nothing
particular to do on the following Saturday, I
readily consented -to give Jevons a hand, and
we forthwith made arrangements to journey to
Fleetbridge together.

" This is a splendid paper to advertise in,"
remarked Jevons, handing me a certain well-
known journal. " I've had no end of replies. I
think I've worded that rather well, don't you ? '
he continued, pointing to his advertisement.

I took the paper and read the following :

" Must be sold, owner going abroad. Ten-ton
cutter, mostly lead ballast. Fast handsome yacht,
splendid accommodation, and grand sea boat.
Sacrifice for £50. Apply J.," etc.

" Why, Jevons, you must be giving her away,"
I exclaimed.

44 Well, I don't know about that, but she's not
such a bad old boat."

" But I didn't know you were going abroad,"
I continued.

" Oh, that's all right. Every one says that, or
else, 4 owner buying a larger ' ! '

I scanned the advertisement once more.

" How much lead is there? " I inquired, more

IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE 87

for the sake of saying something than from any
particular thirst for knowledge.

" Oh, I don't know exactly," replied Jevons
with a grin, " but I'm sure there's some. She's all
right you know," he continued. " You'll come and
give me a hand on Saturday, won't you ? ':

" Oh yes, I'll help you sail the paragon."

It was early in February, and the weather on
the day appointed was not exactly of a nature to
convince a recruit of the joys of yachting. The
wind came in vicious puffs from the westward,
and the low, driving clouds were heavy with un-
shed rain. Moreover, it was bitterly cold, and
the rawness of the air chilled one to the very
bones.

Arriving at Fleetbridge early in the afternoon,
Jevons and I found Williams, the prospective
purchaser, awaiting us. He seemed a decent
enough fellow in his way, but there was no doubt
about it — he was a mug. He had evidently laid
the foundation of his yachting career by the pur-
chase of a complete outfit of the Southend Pier
order. A monkey jacket with brass buttons — on
each of which was wrought a cunning little foul
anchor — white duck trousers, canvas shoes, and,
as coping-stone to the whole structure, a large-
topped, shiny-peaked yachting cap. Did ever one
see the like ? And in February too !

As we walked down to the hard, Jevons explained
that the Curlew was not looking quite so smart
as she might, for she had been in commission all
the winter? but when fitted out, the boat coul<|

88 IN TIDAL WATERS

hold her own for appearance with any of them.
He had a very plausible way of talking, as I knew
to my cost, and that afternoon he was quite at
his best. Turning to Williams, he inquired :

" You have not yet had a yacht of your own,
I think?"

Receiving a reply in the negative, he continued :

" Then, my dear fellow, let me warn you. Do
not be led away by the glamour of glistening
brasswork and glossy enamel. What you want
is a good seaworthy craft, with iron fittings, in
fact everything for use and but little in the
ornamental line. Simplicity and soundness should
be your motto, and I think you will find the Curlew
an ideal craft in such respect. But here we are
at the hard, and you will soon see for yourself.
There she is."

Gazing in the direction which Jevons had
indicated, I, to my astonishment, beheld a dis-
reputable old converted ship's boat.

There was a moment of awkward silence, which
was at length broken by Williams inquiring in a
hard dry voice, " Which did you say was the
yacht?"

" That one over there," replied Jevons, again
pointing to the craft at which he gazed.

" Oh ! " ejaculated Williams, in a tone which
did not savour much of enthusiasm. " She's not
quite what I expected."

I myself turned away, ostensibly to knock out
my pipe, but in reality to hide a smile, for I was
not altogether a stranger to such experiences.

IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE 89

Then Jevons, turning to Williams, commenced
to talk.

64 My dear fellow," he began, 44 you cannot
expect the boat to look her best at this time of
year. You only see her in her winter deshabille.
Ah ! she looks very different in summer. Besides,
you want a yacht for use, and not for ornament,
don't you? "

Breaking off, he turned to me :

" Oh, by the way, old man, you might run into
the Inn and order dinner for seven o'clock, and
you had better warn Mrs. Jones to have plenty,
for this breeze will give us a rare appetite. Wil-
liams and I will launch the dinghy whilst you are
gone. "

Now, I hope I did Jevons no injustice, but as
I walked up to the little Inn, I could not help
thinking that he was anxious to get me out of
the way for a short time whilst he lied to Williams
about the capabilities of the Curlew. Anyhow,
when I returned, the latter seemed almost as
enthusiastic as Jevons himself.

I found that they had launched the dinghy in
my absence and were now waiting for me. Jevons
was sitting on the middle thwart with the sculls
in his hands, whilst Williams stood in the bow,
eagerly surveying the Curlew as she tossed about
fretfully on the troubled waters.

44 Hold on," I shouted, as, giving the dinghy a
vigorous shove, I leapt in.

My warning, however, apparently came too late,
for Williams subsided into the bottom of the boat,

90 IN TIDAL WATERS

and happening to alight on the anchor looked
particularly sorry for himself.

Jevons was very sympathetic, and cursed me
roundly for my carelessness. We arrived on
board without further misadventure, and at once
set about getting under way.

The wind came in vicious little squalls, and a
rapidly falling glass foretold a breeze. So Jevons
decided to put a pair of. reefs in the mainsail.
The sails were dressed to save the bother of
putting on covers — at least, that was what Jevons
told Williams. But when three reef points in
succession tore out of the sail as I essayed to tie
them, it occurred to me that even as a woman will
sometimes paint her face to hide the ravages of
time, so might oil and ochre be applied to a sail
for a similar purpose.

" Don't be so rough with those points," Jevons
hissed in my ear.

" Oh, all right," I replied, somewhat nettled,
" you had better tie them yourself," and I went
forward in high dudgeon to get the jib ready,
being followed by a warning shout from Jevons
to " mind that fore-hatch."

I soon had the jib out on the bowsprit with
halyard and sheets bent on. By this time Jevons
had finished reefing the mainsail, and everything
was in readiness. Taking the tiller, he shouted
to me :

" Slip the mooring and set the jib — take care
of the fore-hatch."

The rusty oW chain ran through the hawse-pipe

IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE 91

with a roar, and I looked round for the fall of
the jib halyard.

It was nowhere to be found.

" Where's the jib halyard belayed? " I shouted
to Jevons.

" Oh, I expect it has gone aloft," he calmly
replied, as if the rope in question were a kind of
Tom Bowling.

Sure enough it had. It had become so short,
owing to a multiplicity of long splices, that when
the jib was lowered on deck, the end of the hal-
yard was of necessity at the masthead. However,
I swarmed up the shrouds, and securing the truant
soon had the sail set and sheeted home.

Relinquishing the tiller to Williams, Jevons
came forward to give me a hand with the mainsail.

" You take the throat and mind that fore-
hatch," he said, as he cast off the halyards from
the fife-rail.

It was about the fourth time that he had warned
me of the hatch. Did he think that I was so unac-
customed to boats that I might trip over it ? I
was beginning to be a bit annoyed at his solicitude,
and it was on the tip of my tongue to consign
Jevons and his fore-hatch to a place where over-
coats are at a discount.

When the throat was nearly up, I belayed the
halyard, and putting one foot against the mast,
gave a vigorous swig on the rope in order to set
the sail. It was then that I solved the mystery
of the fore-hatch, for the halyard parted, and in
jumping backwards to save myself from falling.

92 IN TIDAL WATERS

*

my foot crashed right through the wretched
thing. Phew ! the gear was ripe and no mistake ;
so was the boat too, if the hatch were any criterion.

I myself was very much annoyed at the incident,
as I had barked my shin pretty badly, but Jevons
simply danced with rage.

" Curse you, you fool," he hissed between his
teeth, rt I told you to be careful."

This was adding insult to injury, and I remon-
strated with some little warmth. It would prob-
ably have ended in a serious squabble had not
Williams supplied the necessary diversion by
ramming a smart little cutter which was lying
on her moorings near by.

The owner of the boat happened to be on board,
and seeing his bowsprit floating midst a tangle of
gear, said nasty things ; and Jevons, already well
warmed up, replied with spirit. The stranger
was pretty useful with his tongue, but Jevons's
eloquence rose to transcendent heights, and the
former soon retreated to his cabin before the lava-
like stream of withering sarcasm hurled at him.
I cleared the boats, and having temporarily
repaired the broken halyard swarmed up the mast
and re-rove it.

We were fairly off at last, and the old hooker,
laying down to her work, bustled along in her best
style, piling up a huge wave beneath her bluff
bows. We were all rather ruffled as to our
tempers, consequently conversation was rendered
conspicuous by its absence. But after a time it
occurred to me that it was approaching high

IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE 93

water, and the ebb would soon be coming down;
so I casually remarked to Jevons :

"How about the tide?"

"Damn the tide!" was the laconic response.

We were speeding down the Estuary towards
the open sea, and at the pace the Curlew travelled
it would not be long ere we were outside the river.
There was no other craft under way, but occasion-
ally we would pass a smack rolling heavily in the
tideway, and sheering wildly at her moorings. It
was a cheerless prospect, and I, for one, had no
particular fancy for going far out to sea in that
old trap. The glass continued to fall rapidly, and
darkness would soon be upon us. So, putting my
pride into my pocket, I returned to the subject.

" The flood is about done, Jevons," I remarked.

" Doesn't matter ; we shall fetch back with
this wind."

46 Supposing it shifts," I objected.

"Why should it?" queried Jevons, who was
evidently in an argumentative frame of mind.

" Why shouldn't it? " I retorted.

As if in answer to my question the wind suddenly
backed to the south-west in a terrific squall.
The old boat buried herself to the coamings, and
we were all thrown violently to leeward. The jib-
sheet parted, and the Curlew, relieved of the
pressure forward, shot up into the wind. In a
few moments the jib had thrashed itself to shreds
before we could secure it, and whilst Jevons and
myself were vainly endeavouring to muzzle the
remnants of the sail, the mainsheet strop carried

94 IN TIDAL WATERS

away. Then, indeed, were we betwixt the devil
and the deep sea.

It was a wild moment. The wind howled and
shrieked through the rigging, whilst the hail and
rain pattering on deck blotted out everything from
view. We were without oilskins, and in a few
minutes were drenched to the skin. The boom
banged viciously from side to side, taking charge
of the after part of the vessel, and Williams in a
state of terror crouched in the steering well.

Jevons let go the halyards, and the topping
lift, unable to bear the strain of the wildly kicking
boom, parted, and let the mainsail flop over the
side into the water. Then we brought up with
unseemly haste to consider our position.

We were indeed in sore straits. Ten miles
from home, with a gale of wind right in our teeth,
and a hot ebb tide just commencing to run. We
had, moreover, lost our only jib, and there was
no food of any sort on board. Our friends across
the Channel are right; the Englishman does take
his pleasure very sadly. Obviously the first
thing to do was to effect temporary repairs, and
sick at heart I assisted Jevons to get the mainsail
on board. Then another journey aloft to reeve
the topping lift, the broken parts of which I had
repaired with a knot. The hail had given place
to a mizzling rain, whilst the blackness of night
was fast closing in upon us.

Pulling down the third reef we got the anchor,
and attempted to beat up the river. It was a
forlorn hope; for with no headsail, but a reefed

IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE 95

foresail, we lost ground every board. There was
nothing for it but to bring up until the tide
turned. With melancholy thoughts of the dinner
awaiting our return in the cosy little parlour of
the Fleetbridge Inn, we let go the anchor, and
having roughly stowed the sails, retired to the
cabin.

If there had been but poor comfort on deck it
was little better below, as all the cabin gear —
if the boat possessed any — had been sent ashore.
We had no light, and could not even smoke, as
our tobacco and matches were soaked. We were
all pretty cold and miserable, but Williams, in his
white ducks, was a pitiable object. As we sat
and shivered in the dark, I could hear his teeth
chatter incessantly. Soon, however, he left us,
for the violent pitching of the boat did not agree
with his internal economy. Retiring to the well
he leant over the side, and for a time gazed
earnestly into the Stygian waters.

"Do you think he'll buy her?" whispered
Jevons.

" If he gives you more than five shillings for the
old death-trap, he ought to be shut up in a lunatic
asylum," I replied.

" Well, you needn't be rude about it."

" Rude ! ! You have the consummate cheek to
bring me on an expedition like this and talk of
rudeness ! " I indignantly retorted.

Fortunately the reappearance of Williams ^>ut
a stop to what promised to develop into an
unseemly wrangle.

96 IN TIDAL WATERS

Crawling into the cabin, he dropped on to the
floor with a groan.

" I've had nothing to eat since breakfast," he
remarked by way of excuse for his sea-sickness.

" It would have been all the same now if you
had," I snapped back.

Then we all sat in the dark and sulked.

We could hardly have been called a convivial
party. Jevons went to sleep and snored loudly,
whilst Williams lay on the cabin floor in a state
of collapse, writhing in the grip of mal de mer.
Pulling my sodden monkey jacket closer round
me, I endeavoured to follow Jevons's example,
but the surroundings were not conducive to
slumber. The boat pitched and groaned, whilst
some cooking utensils in a locker kept up an
incessant clatter. Without, " the water wraith
was shrieking," and the halyards played a devil's
tattoo on the mast. So the evening slowly sped
its course. Suddenly Williams started up with
a white scared face.

" There's water on the floor," he cried.

I put down my hand, and felt it swishing about.
That was the last straw. Taking a deliberate aim
I kicked Jevons hard upon the leg. He awoke with
a curse on his lips.

"What the ?"

" You had better pump out the old basket
before she sinks," I interrupted.

And he did. For three-quarters of an hour the
crazy pump clanked ere she sucked. But the
exercise seemed to have banished Jevons's ill-

IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE 97

humour, for it was with quite an air of cheerfulness
that he shouted, " Come along, you chaps, the tide
has about done, and we shall soon get back now."

So we turned out into the bitter night, and set
the sodden canvas. Then followed an incident
which might easily have proved fatal. Whilst
Jevons sailed the boat I was engaged in fishing
and catting the anchor. It was rather a heavy
mud-hook, and as I leaned over the side I somehow
lost my balance, and in a moment had slipped from
the deck into the seething water. As I rose to the
surface a black object loomed out of the dark-
ness close at hand. Throwing out my hand, I
grabbed it, and to my relief found it was the
dinghy. I gave a yell, and with an answering
shout, Jevons put the Curlew about. As the yacht
was in stays, I clambered into the dinghy. The
latter was towing on a long painter, and I crawled
forward to haul myself up to the yacht. As soon
as I got into the bows of the dinghy, however,
she gave a wild sheer and nearly swamped, so
I beat a hasty retreat to the stern. In the mean-
time Jevons had eased the mainsheet and was
running back. I gave another yell and round
came the yacht again.

" Where are you ? " shouted Jevons.

" Here, in the dinghy," I answered. But al-
though I could hear him distinctly it was evident
that my voice did not carry against the wind,
for round came the Curlew once more.

It was certainly a very humorous situation, but
I wanted to get on board, so when the yacht had

98 IN TIDAL WATERS

lost her way in stays I grabbed the painter, and
rapidly hauling the dinghy up managed at last
to scramble on board.

Jevons was not a little relieved to see me again,
for it was obvious that he had been considerably
scared. I myself was not sorry to feel a boat
under my feet once more, however rotten she
might be. The incident, moreover, served to dis-
sipate the bad feeling which had existed before,
and with mutual congratulations we turned to
and resumed our homeward journey. Shaking
out a reef in the mainsail, and setting the whole
foresail, we made better progress. Considering the
state of the gear, it came perilously near to " carry-
ing on," but we were heartily sick of it.

The Curlew tore through the water with her
lee deck deeply buried, and her bluff bows smashed
the short seas into clouds of stinging spray which
continuously swished aft. Occasionally she would
dig her nose into a hollow wave, causing a torrent
of water to rush madly over the decks and cabin-
top into the well. But we hardened our hearts
and plugged her at it. In the cabin, the floor-
boards floated about and the water lay deep over
the lee bunk. Whilst Jevons and I worked the
boat, Williams bailed vigorously with a bucket,
without which we could not have kept her afloat.

Thus, at length we came to Fleetbridge, and
sailed the Curlew on to the mud. It was then
three o'clock in the morning, so we did not waste
much time over stowing the sails. Putting a
couple of tyers round the mainsail, and another

IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINE 99

round the foresail, we dropped the anchor and
a few fathoms of chain overboard, and in a few
minutes were pulling ashore in the dinghy.

We, of course, found the Inn shut up and in
darkness, but as Jevons remarked, it was absurd
to suppose that we were going to spend the
remainder of the night on the doorstep; besides
we wanted our belated dinner. But we hammered
on the door in vain, for the noise was drowned
by the raging of the storm. After a time, Jevons
went off to see if by any chance the back door
had been left unbolted, whilst Williams and I
proceeded to examine the bar windows. Joy !
There was one unlatched, but the sash-line proved
to be broken. Three hungry men were not to
be kept from food and shelter by such a trifle
as that, so I got to work with my knife. In a
moment I had prised up the sash sufficiently to
insert my fingers beneath it and open the window
wide.

"You get in, Williams, . whilst I hold it up,"
I said.

He climbed through and dropped gently into the
room. There was a soft pattering noise on the
floor — a savage growl — and then a piercing shriek
rang through the house. A big retriever dog had
seized Williams by the leg. The noise speedily
brought Jevons to the scene, and fortunately he
was sufficiently acquainted with the brute to call
him off. The old adage that " it's an ill wind
which blows nobody any good," was however once
more exemplified, for Williams's cry had aroused

100 IN TIDAL WATERS

the house, and in a few minutes the landlord, in
the scantiest of attire, was ministering to our
wants. After an ample meal and a stiff glass of
hot grog all round to counteract the evil effects
of being so long in wet clothes, we retired to bed
at 4 a.m.

When Jevons and I turned out the next morning
at about midday, we learnt that Williams had left
by the morning train, and neither of us have seen
or heard of him since. Whether he eventually
bought a yacht I cannot therefore say, but I trow
not.

CHAPTER XI

THE BUILDING OF " SLEUTHHOUND "

AMATEUR boatbuilding is a pursuit indulged in
a good deal more than is generally supposed,
but one only hears of the successful achieve-
ments. The failures are usually buried in oblivion
—or the back garden, as the case may be. To
construct a small yacht worthy of the name two
factors are absolutely essential, viz., tools and
some knowledge of their use. In my case both
of these desiderata were negligible quantities, and
Sleuthhound, as may be readily imagined, was not
destined to be an epoch-making craft. I should
think it is open to doubt whether such another
boat has ever been seen, for in many ways she
was unique. Sleuthhound was, indeed, a sort of
low comedian of the seas, for the mere sight of
her never failed to raise a smile. The word
" smile," I must mention, is used in this connec-
tion from motives of euphony, as, to be truthful
for once in a way, she was usually greeted with
ironical gibes and unseemly merriment by yachts-
men who owned just ordinary boats that any fool
with a bit of money can buy. Still, I must confess
that the candid criticism to which my " yacht "
was so often subjected occasionally ruffled my

101

102 IN TIDAL WATERS

temper; and once, spurred on by particularly in-
sulting epithets hurled at my creation by some
small boys on the bank, I ran the boat ashore and
" booted " them soundly, which made good sport,
as Samuel Pepys was wont to remark in his ever-
delightful diary.

Whatever could have induced me to embark
upon such an undertaking I cannot conceive, but,
of course, it happened when I was still in the first
blush of youth and possessed of more enthusiasm
than sense. As far as I can remember, I got the
notion from one of those silly articles that some-
times appear in boys' papers : " How to build a
sailing yacht for fifteen shillings," or something of
that kind. But it was only the germ of the idea
I had from the paper, for on reading the article
I found that the craft described was fashioned of
canvas, a feature that was not quite to my liking.
A canvas boat may be all very well in its way,
but it has its disadvantages : if, for instance, in
a fit of absent-mindedness you happen to shove
your foot through the side you've got to swim,
which is rather a bore. So I decided to build my
boat of wood, and I don't suppose there has ever
been so much good wood spoilt in a couple of
week-ends before or since. My only previous car-
pentering experience was of the odd-job-about-
the-house order, usually performed with the aid
of a dinner knife and the back of a hair-
brush. The tools employed in the construction of
Sleuthhound were not much more extensive, for
they consisted merely of a meat-saw, a screw-

THE BUILDING OF * SLEUTHHOUND ' 103

driver, a chisel, a gimlet, a hammer, and a screw
clamp.

The science of naval architecture was to me as
a sealed book, and the drawings from which I
worked were as primitive as my tools. My
original idea was to build a boat of the ordinary
type with round bilges and overhangs fore and
aft, but on further consideration I came to the
conclusion that the scheme was impracticable, as
I should have to steam the timbers. To build a
steam-box and plant seemed to me almost as
great an undertaking as to construct the boat
herself, so I decided that she should be a sharpie
with a canoe stern and lee boards.

Then I got out my working drawings. These
were simplicity itself, consisting merely of deck
and sheer plans. She was to be 15 ft. long by
5 ft. beam, so I first drew the deck plan 15 in.
long on a big sheet of paper. The frames were
to be 6 in. spaced, so at every half-inch on the deck
plan I drew a line. The sheer plan was prepared
in a similar manner, and then by carefully measur-
ing the lines on the drawings and multiplying the
result by twelve I had the correct dimensions of
each frame. Having arrived at this stage, I
calculated the amount of wood I should require,
and ordered it already planed up from a timber
merchant. Such trivial items as the keel, stem,
sternpost, lee-boards, and spars I dismissed from
my mind as altogether beneath me, and tufned
them over to a common shipwright to make.
These cost me £4 ; the wood for frames, planking,

104 IN TIDAL WATERS

deck, and coamings another £4. As my worldly
possessions amounted to a bare ten-pound note,
the financial position was somewhat strained, but,
with the enthusiasm of youth, I started in to
work with a light heart.

Where to build the boat was the next problem,
but I eventually obtained permission to make use
of the cart-shed attached to the little inn at
Fambridge. This shed was not altogether without
its advantages, for I had merely to raise my voice
and mine hostess would fly to the scene of opera-
tions with a flowing stoup of ambrosial ale, and
ere Sleuihhound took the first plunge into her
natural element the good lady had grown quite
thin with the unwonted exercise. Looking back
down a vista of years, I still have pleasant recollec-
tions of the noble thirst generated by much slaving
at the saw, and those potations of Treble X were
perhaps the only really satisfactory episodes of
an ungenerous task.

The keel, stem, and sternpost arrived from the
shipwright bolted together and were of a somewhat
ponderous nature. The keel of English elm was
9 in. by 6 in., and the stem and sternpost of oak
were not much less. Those who raised their voices
in an exceeding bitter cry against the harshness of
the scantlings imposed by the International Rules
would have hung their heads in shame after
inspecting Sleuthhound, for everything was in
proportion to her keel. The frames were one and
a half inch (finished) and planking a full inch.
The first thing was to mark with chalk, on the

THE BUILDING OF < SLEUTHHOUND ' 105

upper part of the keel, the positions of the floor
timbers, and then, with the aid of saw and chisel,
hack out notches for them to rest in. I started
my labours at three-thirty on Saturday morning
and worked until dewy eve. The progress was
remarkable, for if my carpentering be of the rough
order it is certainly rapid. At first I was rather
troubled by the antics of the keel. It would stand
up by itself all right when let alone, but as soon
as I began to talk to it with the meat-saw the
beast fell over. The simple expedient of securing
it with battens of wood to the sides of the shed
never occurred to me, but the problem was solved
by the aid of four empty beer barrels, two sup-
porting the stem and two the sternpost. Having
cut out the notches for the timbers, I started in
to make the frames themselves. This was com-
paratively easy work, for it merely meant sawing
off the right length of quartering, making rough
mortices at the ends, and joining together with
brass screws. But, oh ! the waste of beautiful
screws. I drove altogether seventy-six dozen of
Nettlefold's best and not a single one lives to tell
the tale. By midday I had made half the frames
and got them screwed down to the keel. Then the
farm labourers came from their work. The shed
in which I was building the boat was, I must
mention, at the side of the road and one end open.
I was kneeling inside the framework of Sleuthhound
when I became aware of the fact that I way no
longer alone.

" They'll get out o' that, guv'nor."

106 IN TIDAL WATERS

I turned round with a start and beheld a burly
ruffian standing at the open end of the shed
scrutinising my work.

" What will get out ? " I pleasantly inquired.
c Why, the chickens, to be sure," replied the
solitary spectator, expectorating freely on the
ground.

" Chickens, you fathead ! ' I exclaimed with
scorn. " This is a yacht."

" Well, I never 'eard tell of a yacht o' the likes
o' that; I doubt I'll just fetch the missus to 'ave
a look," and he went away.

I was not left in peace for long, however, for
the news that a gent was building a yacht in the
cart-shed of the Ferryboat spread like wildfire.
The whole village turned out to bear me company
in my labours, and the remarks offered anent the
lines of Sleuthhound were most free. They were
genial fellows in a way and brought out their beer
in order that they might combine business with
pleasure. Sitting round in easy attitudes they
passed, no doubt, a very pleasant afternoon,
whilst I, assuming an air of nonchalance that I
by no means felt, pursued my work in the full
glare of public criticism. The presence of so much
company and the candid remarks upon the manner
in which I handled my tools made me nervous,
and several little mishaps occurred which even-
tually culminated in a catastrophe. I was sprawl-
ing on top of the framework screwing vigorously
when the whole caboodle collapsed and let me
through. Never shall I forget the howl of merri-

THE BUILDING OF « SLEUTHHOUND ' 107

ment that arose from every side whilst I with a
scratched face and a broken heart slowly extricated
myself from the wreckage.

Turning to the crowd of grinning rustics with
the remark, " That concludes our performance for
this evening," I stalked, with what dignity I could
summon to my aid, into the inn, and calmed my
ruffled feelings with a good dinner.

The following day I laboured hard to repair the
damage which had been caused by my kneeling
on the deck-beams before the coamings had been
fitted. As I had only bought just sufficient wood
for the whole job, I could not replace the broken
beams, and had to mend them as best I could.
This I at length accomplished with sundry iron
plates, bits of string, and wire nails. Then I set
to work to plank her up, and by the evening had
finished the bottom and sides. Operations were
then deferred until the following week-end, which
was perhaps as well, for I required all kinds of
things to finish the boat, and my available cash
was exhausted. The remedy was not far to seek :
I must take a partner, and thus bring more money
into the concern. To find one, as may be readily
imagined, was not an easy task, but at last I
induced a youth as guileless as myself to listen
to my blandishments. I pointed out the advan-
tages of a boat of the Sleuthhound type. One
could, I remarked, cruise anywhere round the
coast, and in the event of being overtaken by bad
weather, all one had to do was to run the craft
ashore, step out, and pull her up the beach. Such

108 IN TIDAL WATERS

was the theory, but I doubt if anything short of a
powerful traction engine could have moved her.

For the sum of five pounds sterling my friend
became the proud possessor of a third share in
the yacht Sleuthhound, " now building," and the
financial position was saved. Assisted by my
partner, I made another daybreak start the
following Saturday, and we got on so fast that we
decided to launch her at high wrater on the mor-
row. When she was planked up and decked I
crawled inside to look round, and to my dismay
saw streaks of daylight percolating through the
seams of the planking. I attempted to caulk
them, but as I did little more than put the oakum
in one side and knock it out the other I resolved to
resort to a more drastic remedy. We first of all
tarred her all over with no niggardly hand and then
covered both bottom and sides with unbleached
calico. Another coat of tar finished the job, the
deck being treated in a similar manner save that
white paint was substituted for the tar. This
tarred calico covering settled the matter so far
as the local people were concerned, for they now
insisted that it was a coffin of novel shape, and
there was some little speculation as to the iden-
tity of the hapless wight for whom it was intended.
But I was quite hardened to the wit of the rustic
wags and went on calmly with my work. I will
now let out a secret which has never yet been told
to living soul. When I saw the boat in being
I came to the conclusion that she had her greatest
beam too far forward, so I made what was intended

THE BUILDING OF < SLEUTHHOUND ' 109

for the bow the stern, and vice versa; and so
Sleuthhound sailed always stern first (according
to the design) when she was not going sideways
like a crab. This, I must remark, was one of the
features I had in mind when I previously described
her as being unique in some respects.

There was still a lot to do in the way of stepping
masts — she was yawl-rigged — hanging the lee
boards and fitting the drop rudder, that I had
acquired by means known only to myself; and
it was not until 2.30 on Sunday morning, after
many hours of hard labour by the feeble light of
flickering lanterns, that the fast and favourite
yacht Sleuthhound was pronounced ready for sea.

To launch the boat was a task that might have
caused even the late Mr. Hercules some trouble,
for the distance from the shed to the river was
over three hundred yards. We managed to get
her down to the bank, however, with the aid of
ten lusty men, the boat being slung by stout ropes
on short lengths of scaffolding pole. With five
men on either side, walking slowly in step, and
headed by a facetious yachtsman whistling Chopin's
Funeral March, we started on the journey to the
sea-wall. The rear was brought up by the land-
lady of the inn, with a new hat of the Merry
Widow type on her head and a bottle of port
in her hand. To her had fallen the honour of
christening the boat that had taken shape in her
cart-shed. At length, after much sweating #nd
swearing and stumbling, Sleuthhound was safely
lodged on the wharf that is used for unloading

110 IN TIDAL WATERS

barges and the scaffold poles employed for pur-
poses of portage were then placed beneath her
bottom as rollers. As nothing could be done until
the tide was at the full, we sat down to wait, what
time a considerable crowd collected to witness the
ceremony.

Sleuthhound was to be launched with all sails
set, and as she took the water I, her creator, was
to leap gracefully on board, trim the sheets, and
sail away 'midst the plaudits of the assembled
multitudes. That was the sort of picture I had
conjured up in my mind. But, alas ! how dif-
ferent was the reality. When the psychological
moment arrived the boat was run down the stage,
and the bottle of port broken on the stern, much
to the disappointment of the spectators, who had
a vague idea that it might perchance be handed
round. Unfortunately, the rollers had not been
placed straight and Sleuthhound, slewing round,
pitched on to the corner of the staging, which
crashed through her bottom. I leapt on board as
she went into the water, but the boat promptly
filled and rolled me into " the ditch." The mast-
step, moreover, had carried away with the sudden
lurch and the spar toppled over the side. The
launch can hardly be said to have been a success,
but the crowd enjoyed it immensely.

With much difficulty we got the wreck on to
the hard, and, after the tide had ebbed, repaired
the bottom with pieces of a cube sugar box, but
we could not make her tight. We spent days
tinkering about with her, but all to no purpose,

THE BUILDING OF « SLEUTHHOUND ' 111

until at last we decided to cement her. When
some three inches of concrete had been placed all
over her bottom Sleuthhound was more or less tight,
and we were able to go for a trial trip. Her sailing
qualities were really not worth speaking about,
for, under the most favourable conditions the
maximum speed attained did not exceed a mile
an hour through the water. She was not particu-
larly handy either and could only be induced to
" stay " by much persuasion from a long oar. As
for the lee boards, I could never see that they were
of any use at all until one day they jambed my
partner's fingers and led to the invention of
several new, cunningly conceived, cuss words.

We soon got " fed up " with Sleuthhound, and after
drifting about in her for a time she was sold for
fifteen shillings for breaking-up purposes. Portions
of her graceful hull may yet be seen edging the
flower-beds of a cottage garden at Fambridge, so,
after all, she has served some useful purpose in
the world.

CHAPTER XII

A NIGHT ON THE SANDS

IT was away back in the 'nineties that I acquired
the sloop Wave. She had originally belonged to
an ill-fated brig that had left her bones to rot on
the Gunfleet Sands, but, the boat having been
salved, an enterprising waterman bought her for
a mere song and in his spare time added a small
cabin and false keel, thus converting her into a tiny
yacht. Her overall measurement was only 16 ft.,
and her beam 5 ft. 6 in., but for a craft of that
nature she sailed quite decently, and I never
regretted the ten-pound note that I gave for her.
On the starboard side of the cabin there was a
low bunk on which one could just sit upright,
whilst a visitor could, at a pinch, turn in on the
floor if he did not mind sleeping on what the sailor
man terms a " donkey's breakfast."

Having had no opportunity of sailing the Wave
in open water, I welcomed the suggestion of some
friends that I should cruise round to Brightling-
sea and meet them there on a certain Saturday
morning, although, as it was in the early days of
February, I cannot say that the time of year was
altogether suitable for open-water sailing in such
a tiny vessel.

As bad luck would have it, I was compelled to

112

There was no alternative but to remove my nether garments."

[To face page 113.

- ...
•

A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 113

journey up to London on the Friday when I
proposed making the trip, and being detained in
town was unable to start until late at night. It
was after eleven o'clock when I left my cottage to
go on board. To reach the river bank at Fam-
bridge was not an easy matter in those days, as,
owing to a breach in the sea-wall, the land in the
immediate neighbourhood of the river was flooded,
and one had to cross the floods in an old shooting-
punt. As the tide swept rapidly across what
remained of the road, it was a passage perilous,
and mishaps were of frequent occurrence. On
this particular night I found that some one had
borrowed the punt, and there was no alternative
but to remove my nether garments and wade
through the icy water. By the time I reached the
sea-wall, I was miserably cold, and, as a hand-
kerchief does not make a very efficient towel, I
arrived on board in anything but a dry condition.
It was then close upon midnight, and I got
under way without further delay. There was a
moderate breeze from the westward, and with the
tide ebbing hard, the Wave made good progress
down the river. It was a dark, cheerless night,
and sailing was rather a strain on the nerves, as
the loom of the land made it difficult to gauge the
distance from the mudflats. Well as I knew the
river, I found it necessary to cast the lead, an
operation that is apt to make one unpleasantly
wet. All went well on the trip down the river,
although I had a narrow escape from fouling a
yacht at anchor off Burnham. She had no riding

114 IN TIDAL WATERS

light, and I passed her at such close quarters that
the Wave's boom dragged along the whole length
of her side.

The clock struck one just after I had passed
through Burnham, and, feeling wretchedly cold,
J lashed the tiller, and, dragging from the cabin
some blankets, wrapped them round my shoulders.
Near the mouth of the river there was a fleet of
barges at anchor, and their lights were a useful
guide; but, having left them astern, I had to
trust to the lead again. Keeping in soundings
along the edge of the Dengie Flat, I headed for the
Buxey Beacon, a rather absurd thing to do in a
craft of such light draft perhaps, but in those
days I had but little knowledge of the waters
outside the river, and I religiously followed the
channel indicated on the chart.

On leaving the shore-ends I had lit the binnacle
lamp, but it was one of those silly little toys that
yacht-chandlers foist upon the novice, and it con-
stantly went out. Having relit it some half-dozen
times, I decided to remove the lamp altogether
and use a bit of candle. Lashing the tiller, I went
below for this purpose, but a protracted search
for the box of candles kept me from the helm
longer than I had intended. By the time I had
the light burning and the binnacle shipped in its
place on the bulkhead, I had got out of touch
with the Dengie Flat, and had to trust entirely
to the compass. As it was not a spirit compass—
the only kind of any use for small-boat work — the
card oscillated violently with the motion of the

A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 115

yacht, and to have kept a steady course would
have taxed a better helmsman than myself.

After sailing for a time I was forced to the
conclusion that I had fairly lost myself. Still, I
knew that my course was about north-east, and
so I kept the craft on that bearing as well as I
could. All of a sudden there was an ominous
scrunch, and the Wave was hard and fast ashore.
Here was a pretty kettle of fish. Having no
dinghy, I was unable to take out an anchor, and,
being on a lee shore, my efforts to push her off
with an oar were unavailing. The water left her
very fast, and, giving up the attempt as hopeless,
I lowered the sails and retired to the cabin to
think matters over. I had but the haziest idea as
to my position, but concluded that the Wave was
on the Buxey Sand.

Soon the Wave was high and dry, and, climb-
ing over the side, I went for a run on the sands
to try and restore my circulation. Then I re-
turned to the cabin, and lighting the Primus stove
brewed a jug of steaming coffee. I reckoned that
it was about four hours' ebb when the Wave had
stranded, and so four hours at least must elapse
ere there would be sufficient water to refloat her.
Obviously the most sensible thing to do was to
turn in for a bit, but in case of emergencies I left
the cabin lamp burning. Presently, just as I was
dozing off, I heard a wild clatter of gear, followed
by a torrent of lurid language. Scrambling «out
into the well, I was just in time to see the sails of
a barge looming out of the darkness as she filled

116 IN TIDAL WATERS

on the port tack. She had evidently been misled
by my cabin light, and had only discovered that
I was aground just in time to save following my
example.

I suppose, really, I should have extinguished
the light; but it was so lonely and dreary out
there by myself on the sands that I could not
bear the thought of being left in the dark. And
so I compromised matters by tacking some cloths
over the scuttles in the coamings. As I lay in
my bunk making a pretence to read, I could hear
the roar of the surf breaking on the sands and the
plaintive cry of plover and curlew, which hovered
over the yacht in a manner that suggested vul-
tures. The wind sang a mournful song in the
rigging, and the halyards played a devil's tattoo
on the mast. Then snow began to fall heavily,
and a feeling of unutterable desolation crept into
my soul.

The spirit of impending misfortune hung over
me, and I began to imagine all kinds of disaster.
Three miles or more from land and no dinghy;
what could I do if the boat went to pieces ? Then
another horrible thought crossed my mind : what
if the breaking seas should fill her before she
floated ? This was quite within the range of pos-
sibility, as the deck only covered the forepart of
the boat, the well from the cabin aft being quite
open and even destitute of waterways. Then it
occurred to me that it was possible to take pre-
cautions against this latter contingency^ and, glad
of having something to do at last, I sought out

A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 117

an old foresail, the hammer, and some nails, and
with the aid of the cabin floor-boards proceeded
to temporarily deck in a considerable portion of
the well.

By the time this was accomplished the tide had
made sufficiently to reach the Wave, and the water
began to lap her keel. But then a new horror
arose in the form of wind. The breeze, which
had veered to the north-west, had for some time
been increasing, and now came in angry squalls,
accompanied by driving sleet. As the tide made,
the waves slapped the side of the boat, sending
up showers of spray ; and it was obvious that by
the time there was sufficient water to float her
there would be a good deal more sea than I cared
to think about.

But it was time to make preparations for
getting her off. The anchor I had already laid
out at low water, having carried it as far as I was
able by wading up to my knees. All I had to do,
therefore, was to make sail. Pulling down a pair
of reefs in the mainsail and setting up the foresail
in stops, I hoisted the former, and having coiled
down the halyards, waited, with considerable mis-
givings, for her to float. I was glad to see, how-
ever, that the covering I had put on the well kept
out a quantity of water that would otherwise have
come on board. Presently she began to lift as
the seas rolled under her, and gradually swung
to her anchor. For a quarter of an hour or rAore
the boat bumped heavily on the sands, and every
moment I expected something would start, But

118 IN TIDAL WATERS

those who had built her had done their work faith-
fully and well, and, so far as I could see, she
sustained no serious damage. Riding head to
wind and sea, the little craft pitched heavily
into the Stygian waves, sending aft clouds of
icy spray that stung my face like a whip. All
around was a hell of seething water, and as she
tugged at her chain, threatening every moment
to break adrift, the seas swept her like a half-
tide rock.

After much thought I had come to the con-
clusion that the only chance of getting the Wave
off this lee shore was by sailing out the anchor,
but I did not care to make the attempt until there
was more water beneath her. So I hung on for a
full half-hour, with one arm round the mast to
prevent being thrown overboard. I was speedily
drenched to the skin, and as I stood there peering
into the murky night, with shivering limbs and
chattering teeth, I thought with Shakespeare,
" Lord ! what fools these mortals be." But now
the time had come for action. Breaking out
the foresail, I belayed the sheet to windward,
and then stood by the anchor chain. With her
foresail aback, the boat took a wild sheer away
from her anchor, and then, snubbing at her chain,
came round on to the port tack. Now was my
chance. As she sailed towards her anchor, every
moment gathering speed, I rattled in the chain
as fast as I could, and snatching a turn round the
bitts sailed the anchor clean out of the ground.
A wild dash aft to the tiller, followed by a violent

A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 119

slatting of the foresail as I stayed her, and the
Wave was safely afloat again.

Now that I was off the sands I had to decide
whether I should go on or return to the Crouch.
So far as I could judge, I was about midway
between Burnham and Brightlingsea, and in either
case I had a beat to windward before me. After
some consideration I determined to carry out my
original programme, and therefore put the Wave
on a north-easterly course. This, I concluded,
would take me to the Knoll Buoy, or at any rate
keep me clear of the sands until I sighted the light
on the buoy. I found that the Wave could lay
this course comfortably, and fortunately the snow
had ceased to fall. With a slashing breeze the
little boat travelled fast, and after sailing for
about three-quarters of an hour I saw the occulting
light on the buoy winking through the darkness.
All was now plain sailing, at any rate until I
reached the Knoll Buoy ; and already there was a
glimmer of light in the eastern sky. I was soon
round the Knoll, and began to beat in towards the
land, whilst the sky grew lighter and lighter.
Soon I was able to distinguish through the un-
certain light the ghostly forms of barges and smacks
coming out from the Colne, and with a procession
of vessels to guide me had no difficulty in finding
my way into Brightlingsea Creek. Bringing up
alongside my friends' yacht, I went on board,
and having borrowed some dry clothes, joined tj^em
at breakfast, thus keeping my appointment after
much trial and tribulation,

CHAPTER XIII

A TABLOID CRUISER

THE diminutive cabin of a boat of only sixteen
feet in length could not by any stretch of the
imagination be considered commodious for two full-
sized me,n, but the thought of possible discomfort
never occurred to either Hugh or myself when we
made our preparations for a short cruise in Wave.
But then we were young and in those days counted
ourselves fortunate in having a cabin at all. Wave's
cabin was certainly of the pill-box order, but I think
we used the space to best advantage. On the
starboard side was a low bunk upon which it was
just possible to sit upright under the cabin-top.
This was naturally claimed by the owner, the
visitor being provided with a " donkey's breakfast "
(anglice a straw mattress), which at night he spread
upon the floor. By day the mattress found a
resting-place at the back of my bunk, being tied to
the side of the boat, wrapped in a waterproof sheet.
In the bow of the vessel I had constructed a large
locker, which contained a somewhat scanty supply
of crockery and our provisions for the trip. The
Primus stove and cooking utensils were housed
in a box in the well just outside the cabin door, and

during the day the riding light was lashed to the

120

A TABLOID CRUISER 121

foot of the mast. For want of a better place the
spare foresail was kept under my bunk cushion,
as, indeed, were a good many other articles, which
tended to make my bed a trifle lumpy. Then room
had to be found for a two-gallon jar of water, a
can of paraffin, a large-sized biscuit tin containing
bread, and, finally, our two portmanteaux. When
all these items had been collected and passed into
the cabin we discovered, to our dismay, that there
still remained a large kit-bag full of blankets.
How to get inside ourselves was something of a
problem, but we managed it somehow, although
it must be confessed we had little sleep that first
night when we joined the boat at Fambridge.

We were up betimes the next morning, and,
dropping down to Burnham, brought up along-
side Nora Creina, a small canoe-yawl owned by my
brother, who was to cruise in company with us.
Although technically a canoe-yawl this little boat
was really sloop rigged, having a gunter-lug main-
sail and roller foresail. She was of the bulb-fin
type and fast and weatherly although inclined to
be wet in rough water. Measuring 18 ft. by 5 ft.
she was half-decked, my brother using a tent spread
over the boom at night, when the weather conditions
permitted him to do so. If there was much wind,
however, the tent caused the boat to sail about
at her anchor, and under such conditions he had to
dispense with the tent. This was not altogether
pleasant on a wet night, for sticky oilskins, and
pyjamas are a horrible combination.

had decided that West Mersea, on the River

122 IN TIDAL WATERS

Blackwater, should be our first port of call, and
although the weather outlook was by no means
encouraging, we deemed it best to take advantage
of a fair wind and adhere to our programme. The
sky was overcast and heavy with unshed rain,
whilst a fresh breeze from south-west meeting
the young flood was already knocking up a jabble
of sea in the river. But no one likes to waste a
fair wind and so we hurried over breakfast. Pres-
ently both boats were under way, each with a reef
tied down in the mainsail. Keeping the north
shore aboard in order to cheat the flood as much as
possible, we made excellent progress, and in an hour
were outside of Shore-ends. Although Nora Creina
could make rings round Wave on a wind there was
not a great deal of difference in their speed on a run
and we kept fairly well together. Nora Creina,
however, gradually went away, and at the Fishery
Beacon led by perhaps a quarter of a mile.

Reaching through the Raysand Channel we found
the water rather lumpy and the tubby little Wave
cut some very lively capers, but beyond a little
spray no water came aboard. My brother, however,
seemed to be having a very wet trip in the canoe-
yawl, and before long was busy with the bailer.

When cruising in comapny with another craft in
unfamiliar waters it is not always a disadvantage
to be in the slower boat, as all the little problems
of navigation fall to the leader. We appreciated
this fact as we approached the Blackwater, for the
low-way through the sands is somewhat intricate.
Whilst my brother was having a particularly wet

A TABLOID CRUISER 123

and uncomfortable time of it heaving the lead, we
could sit at ease and smoke our pipes, for all we had
to do was to follow in the wake of Nora Creina.

The sun broke through as we crossed the Black-
water, a noble expanse of sailing water, and the
village of West Mersea looked very pretty as we
drew near. The mudflats thereabouts are very
treacherous, but they were covered at that state of
tide, and in sublime ignorance of their existence we
sailed right over them. Seeing a line of smacks
at anchor close to the shore, we simply made for
them and brought up. We learnt afterwards that
Nora Creina had dragged her bulb through the soft
mud for several yards ; but Wave, drawing less water,
did not touch and it was only some hours after-
wards, when the tide was down, that we realised
what a narrow escape from stranding we had had.
However, there we were, brought up in the Besom
Fleet in excellent berths close to the hard, and
consequently had no cause for complaint.

On going ashore we were quite charmed with
West Mersea, and decided to make it our head-
quarters for a few days whilst we explored the
Blackwater and Colne rivers ; and as the weather
steadily improved we had a most enjoyable time
pottering about in the neighbourhood.

Having spent the best part of a week in the
Blackwater we decided to venture round the coast
to the Orwell. With a view to picking up the
young flood at the Naze, we deferred our depar-
ture until the afternoon, starting at two o'clock
when the tide was at half ebb. The wind was light

124 IN TIDAL WATERS

from S.S.E., and we reckoned we should have ample
time to reach the Naze before the flood began to
make. But " the best-laid plans of mice and men
gang aft agley," and being becalmed for a time the
tide turned against us when we were off Clacton.

Had we been wise we should have put back to
the Colne, but, not liking to admit defeat, we
decided to anchor and wait for a breeze. It was
nearly seven o'clock ere we were able to proceed,
and the wind, when it came, was right in our teeth.
However, the flood had not yet gathered much
strength, and getting our anchors we commenced
to beat over it. Nora Creina was immeasurably
superior to Wave at this game, and we were soon
left far astern. Still, we were getting along fairly
well, and had hopes of saving our daylight into
Harwich. But as the tide gathered strength our
progress became more and more unsatisfactory, and
we were still a mile from the Naze when the shades
of night began to close in upon us.

It was now obvious that we could not save our
daylight, and I began to have grave doubts about
saving the flood tide into the Orwell. To make
matters worse both wind and sea were steadily rising,
and Wave had all she wanted of the former under
her whole mainsail. We were both rather silent
and pensive as darkness overtook us, and the out-
look certainly was not very alluring. If we held
on we had every prospect of spending the night at
sea in strange waters without sidelights, for not
contemplating being under way after dark we had
omitted to provide ourselves with the regulation

A TABLOID CRUISER 125

red and green lamps. To give in after struggling
so far was heartbreaking, but it seemed the wisest
thing to do, and so we decided to run back to
Brightlingsea.

There was now a nasty sea for a small boat, and
we were carrying far more canvas than was alto-
gether prudent ; but we fought shy of reefing the
mainsail in the dark. Watching for a smooth, I
put the helm up and with my heart in my mouth,
as the saying goes, wore her round. The little craft
came round safely, but her antics when running
before the following sea scared us more than a
little. She rolled abominably. At one moment
the boom-end soared up towards the masthead,
and the next was trailing in the water. The boat
hung on the crest of every wave and then rushed
forward with the scend of the sea, threatening to
broach - to every moment. And there was no
shelter to be had nearer than the Colne, some
twelve miles distant. The little Wave was at that
time quite open aft, having no waterways round
the well, and every moment I expected a sea would
break aboard and swamp her.

" This isn't good enough," I shouted to my com-
panion. " Let's bring up off Walton and try and
get ashore."

Hugh cordially agreed and scrambled forward to
get the anchor ready. The light on the pierhead
was already close at hand, and in a few minutes we
hauled our wind round the pier and let go *the
anchor, allowing the full scope of chain to run out.

Riding head to wind and sea, the motion of the

126 IN TIDAL WATERS

little boat was simply indescribable, and it was with
the greatest difficulty we managed to get the sails
down and stowed, shouting lustily all the time.
Then we lit and waved the riding light to attract
attention. For a long time our signals were ignored,
and feelings of unutterable desolation and despair
crept over us. I shall never forget the sensation of
relief that slid into my soul when at last I heard
an answering hail and saw a big shore -boat loom
out of the darkness. In a few minutes she was
alongside and our troubles were over.

And so we basely deserted our ship and sought
shelter for the night beneath the hospitable roof of
the Portobello Hotel, where we had a good square
meal and a first-mate's nip of hot rum before
turning in. As I lay in bed listening to the roar
of the surf on the shore I thought of the little Wave
tossing about off the pierhead, and wondered if
we should find her there in the morning, for it
seemed unlikely that she would hold on to a single
anchor through the night.

The next morning, when I looked out, I found
the weather in complete contrast to that of the
previous night. The wind had blown itself out
and everything was bathed in sunshine. Hurrying
over breakfast, we went down to the pier, and were
rejoiced to see Wave riding to her anchor just
where we had left her, and to all appearances none
the worse for the rude buffeting she had experienced.
But when we got on board we found her in a pretty
pickle inside. Everything that could possibly do
so had broken adrift and lay in a heap on the cabin

A TABLOID CRUISER 127

floor. Pots of jam and tins of condensed milk
stood upon their heads, their contents being plastered
over cushions and bedding, and of our slender
stock of cups and saucers hardly one remained
intact. It took us the best part of two hours to
clean up the mess and get the cabin shipshape
again, but we were only too thankful to have got
out of our scrape so easily.

Our troubles of the night were soon forgotten,
and to complete our happiness a nice sailing breeze
filled in from the south-east and sent us speeding
towards the Orwell. The tide was ebbing, but by
keeping in the comparatively slack water of Dover-
court Bay we made capital progress and soon got
past Shotley Spit into the Orwell. By this time
the heart had gone out of the ebb and we ran over
it easily up to Pin Mill, where we found Nora
Creina, which had managed to save the daylight
into the river the previous evening.

That Pin Mill should be the favourite venue of
yachtsmen who sail on the south-east coast is not
surprising, for it would be difficult to find a more
charming anchorage in all England. The village,
known to the postal authorities as Chelmondiston,
lies some little distance from the river, but a pictur-
esque little hamlet, comprising one or two cottages
and a couple of inns, stands at the head of the hard,
and at high water the tide laps the wall of the
Butt and Oyster. The yachts for the most
part lie at moorings in the little bay undeF the
shore of Woolverstone Park, and are well clear of
all traffic. One may land at any state of tide, and

128 IN TIDAL WATERS

the hard is particularly well adapted for scrubbing
a small yacht. If it were only more accessible
from London, Pin Mill would make an ideal yacht-
ing centre, but then if one could get there as quickly
and as easily as, say, Burnham-on-Crouch, it would
soon be overcrowded and would probably lose
much of its charm.

Densely wooded to the water's edge the Orwell is
by far the most delightful of east-coast rivers, and
for sheer beauty is worthy of being placed in the
same category as the Dart, Fal, and Beaulieu rivers.
As we looked round upon the fair scene we remem-
bered with regret that our holiday was drawing to
a close, and that we must say good-bye to this
delectable haven on the morrow and begin to work
our way homewards.

With the idea of seeing as much of the river as
possible in the short time at our disposal, we changed
into shore clothes, and after a hasty lunch boarded
the steamer and went up to Ipswich. It was but
half an hour's run, and the scenery all the way was
magnificent, particularly in the neighbourhood of
Freston Towers. We spent the afternoon exploring
the town, and then dined with my brother at the
Great White Horse Hotel, where, it will be remem-
bered, Mr. Pickwick had an awkward adventure.
We drove back to Pin Mill in the cool of the
evening, and, boarding our respective craft, turned
in for a few hours' sleep preparatory to making an
early start in the morning.

For once in a way we kept our good resolutions
and at 3.30. a.m. were having a preliminary break-

A TABLOID CRUISER 129

fast. Half -an- hour later we slipped from the moor-
ings we had borrowed, and started for Brightling-
sea, en route for the Crouch. There was a flat
calm and we drifted slowly down the Orwell,
pulling with the sweep occasionally to keep steerage
way on the boat, but when we reached Harwich
a little breeze from S.W. by W. enabled us to lay
the Naze. We jogged along comfortably with a
light wind and calm sea until past Frinton and then
it began to blow freshly. The breeze rapidly in-
creased, and the sea began to rise, so we thought
it desirable to reef. But before we had finished
taking down the first reef I saw that the second
would be required. So we kept Wave hove-to
whilst we pulled down the second reef and shifted
the foresail for a smaller sail. By the time we had
finished doing this it was blowing really hard, and
we noticed two barges in the distance had lowered
their topsails. There was, moreover, a nasty sea
for so small a craft, and when we filled on her and
began to sail the boat she shipped a green one
that nearly swamped us. Perhaps the most pru-
dent course to have followed would have been to
turn tail and run back, but we rather funked
running before a heavy following sea with our open
well. We therefore pulled the foresail aweather
and laid her to. The little boat rode fairly com-
fortably like this and so we remained hove-to for
a couple of hours or more, when the weather began
to improve and we were able to resume our journey.
But the delay cost us our tide, and progress was
painfully slow. To cheat the tide we worked the

130 IN TIDAL WATERS

shore in short boards, and by keeping the lead
going were able with our light draught to stand in
very close. Working past Clacton we stood in so
close that we got mixed up with some ladies who
were bathing, and they seemed somewhat dis-
concerted at the appearance in their midst of so
unusual a visitor.

After passing Clacton the wind took off rapidly,
and we were able to shake out our reefs and by
one o'clock, when we were still a mile from Colne
Point, the breeze failed altogether and we had to
bring up. This seemed a favourable opportunity
for lunch, but to our disgust we discovered that
the sardines we had bought at Pin Mill were bad and
the butter was rancid. And so we had nothing to
eat but dry bread, miserable fare after a " dusting "
at sea. Although the wind had died away there
was still a good deal of sea running, and we rolled
abominably for two and a half hours under a
scorching sun. By this time we felt that we could
stand it no longer, and as the ebb had slackened
a good bit and there was now a faint breeze we
decided to try and get into the river. Getting
the anchor we began to work the slack in short
boards.

On our second board towards the shore we
struck some submerged piles and bumped heavily
four or five times ere we got clear of them. The
parrel line broke, at the same moment releasing
a number of lignum vitse balls which pattered on
deck and startled us more than a little. I soon
realised what had happened, however, and managed

A TABLOID CRUISER 131

to rescue several before they rolled overboard.
As soon as we were clear of the obstruction we
anchored and pulled up the floor-boards to investi-
gate. I fully expected to find the boat leaking
badly, but she proved to be quite uninjured; and
so, having repaired the broken parrel, we got our
anchor again and made another start.

There was only a light air of wind, but with the
aid of the sweep we contrived to crawl along and
ultimately got into the Colne, having taken nearly
three hours to cover that mile. By the time we
reached the bar the sea was quite smooth, and
we crossed with barely a foot of water beneath our
keel. It was dead low water and we poled her
along with the sweep. We seemed to be floating
over a sort of marine garden, so luxuriant was the
growth of seaweed. The water was as clear as
crystal, and as I punted the boat along my com-
panion amused himself by trying to spear " five
fingers," of which there were great numbers, with
the boathook.

Once in the Colne our troubles were over, for
we now had the young flood to help us. Our
chief object in life was to get something to
eat, and to save time we changed into our shore
clothes as we drifted up the Colne. It struck
eight as we anchored in Brightlingsea Creek, and
a few minutes later we were on our way to the
shore.

As we landed we met the skipper of a barge who
had passed us in the Wallet. " You've 'ad a,tidy
bit of sailin' to-day, ain't ye ? " he remarked.

132 IN TIDAL WATERS

And I reckon we had. Sixteen hours of it and
nothing to eat worth mentioning. Yes, I am
afraid the Englishman does take his pleasures
rather sadly sometimes.

It was nearly nine o'clock when we got our
belated dinner, and I think I may say without any
great departure from the truth that ample justice
was done to the good fare set before us by mine
host at the Swan. In the course of the meal my
brother dropped in and seemed considerably relieved
to find us, as he had been more than a little anxious
as to our safety.

Nora Creina had sailed away from Wave from the
very start, and we had seen nothing of her all day.
We learnt from my brother that when the strong
breeze set in he was round the Bar Buoy and con-
sequently had a fair wind up Colne. Lowering
away his mainsail and spreading the well-cover,
he was able to run in to Brightlingsea in com-
parative comfort, and Nora Creina anchored
safely in the Creek before noon. Thus, for the
second time in the course of our short cruise were
the advantages of having a fast boat demon-
strated to us.

Our sail home to the Crouch the next day was
pleasant but uneventful, and we picked up our
moorings at Fambridge early in the afternoon. In
spite of the rather trying time we had experienced
both going to and returning from the Orwell, we had
thoroughly enjoyed our trip in Wave, but all the
same I vowed that I would not venture far outside

A TABLOID CRUISER 133

the river again until her well had been fitted with
waterways and coamings. With that end in view
I sailed her round to Paglesham at the end of the
season, and left her in the hands of a shipwright
to be thoroughly overhauled.

CHAPTER XIV

THE SALT-WATER CURE

"You must be mad" was the somewhat un-
complimentary verdict of my people when I an-
nounced my intention of going down to Paglesham
to sail round to Fambridge. And I must admit
that there was some justification for their remarks,
as a yachting expedition in the month of February
certainly seemed a rather drastic remedy for a
severe cold and sore-throat that had confined me
to the house for several days. But the shipwright
to whom I had entrusted the job of fitting out my
little boat had promised that she should be ready
by a specified date, and having been divorced from
my sport for three long dreary months I was not
to be deterred from joining her by any petty
ailments. And so on the appointed day, with a
muffler round my neck, a thick overcoat, and a
travelling rug, I set out for Burnham-on- Crouch
en route for Paglesham.

When I left home the glass was falling ominously,
and by the time I reached Burnham the weather
had changed for the worse. It was raw and cold,
and a driving mizzle of rain added to the feeling
of general discomfort. Paglesham is not very
easy of access from Burnham, for one must first

134

THE SALT-WATER CURE 135

ferry over the Crouch, then walk across Wallasea
Island, and finally take another ferry over Pagles-
ham Creek. It is no great distance across the
island, but there are many pit-falls to trap the
unwary. The meadows are laced with ditches and
dykes, spreading in all directions like the antennae
of some giant insect, and to a stranger these ob-
structions are very confusing. The dykes are both
broad and deep, as I was presently to learn to my
cost. It happened in this wise. In attempting to
take a short cut I had wandered from the beaten
track and lost myself. Whichever way I turned
I was confronted by a broad dyke, and if I crossed
a plank bridge, of which there were several, I
merely found myself in a similar maze. Fortun-
ately I knew in which direction Paglesham lay and
hoped eventually to strike the bank of the creek.
Owing to my sore-throat I had not smoked for
several days, but, feeling in urgent need of the
soothing influence of tobacco, I threw discretion
to the winds and filled my pipe. But that pipe
was not destined to be smoked, for, turning round
to get a light, I saw a sight that I freely confess
struck terror into my heart. From childhood's
days I have had a deep-rooted fear of bulls and
cows and there, to my horror, was a great white
cow in hot chase. One hurried glance and I fled.
Leaving my bag behind me, I ran as fast as I could,
impeded as I was by a heavy overcoat, but fortun-
ately a dyke was near at hand. I did not pause
to think whether I could clear it, but took a flying
leap. My feet landed on the very edge of the

136 IN TIDAL WATERS

opposite bank, and the earth crumbling beneath
me I fell with a great splash backwards into the
dyke. In a moment I had scrambled out on to
dry land and was confronted by the ferryman,
who, seeing me coming, had walked across a meadow
to guide me. With ill-concealed mirth he told me
that the cow was quite harmless and probably
thought I had some food for her, as it was the
custom during the winter months to feed them with
mangel-wurzel. I turned and gazed at the brute
and there she stood, calmly sniffing at my bag.
Having retrieved my luggage for me, the man
rowed me across the creek, and after a few minutes'
walk I reached the inn at Paglesham. Changing
into my sailing clothes, I left my wet things
to be dried and went down to the river to see if
the boat were ready.

Wave was afloat and that was all that could be
said of her. Her ballast still remained in the shed
and her mast was not even stepped. It was
evident that the men had launched her and then
stopped work for the day. As it was Saturday
afternoon, and they would not again put in an
appearance until Monday, I did not quite see how
I was to take her to Fambridge on the morrow,
but I was not going to give in without an effort.
I therefore hastened to the shipwright's house and
was lucky enough to catch him on the point of
setting out for a bicycle ride. He was full of
apologies, but nothing would induce him to do any
more work on Wave that day. After debating the
point with some little heat he consented to give me

THE SALT-WATER CURE 137

the key of his shop, in which the boat's gear was
stored, and let me do the work myself.

Presently I was joined by a young friend who
had volunteered for the trip, and, although he knew
nothing of boats, he contrived to make himself
very useful. After he had helped me to step the
mast, I set him to load up a smack's dinghy with
ballast, whilst I busied myself with making and
reeving new running gear. We worked on steadily
until darkness put a stop to our labours. Our
progress was excellent, and when we finally left the
boat for the night she was nearly rigged. Still
there was a good deal to be done on the morrow
before we could start, as the sails had not been bent
and the ballast, although all on board, had yet to
be stowed. All this time the weather had been
steadily growing worse, and an angry-looking sunset
augured ill for our contemplated trip. The glass
had fallen a full inch since the previous night, a
sure sign of a heavy blow out of the south-west.
But as the waters we had to sail were landlocked
the prospect of a hard breeze did not trouble me
much, and I was determined to make the passage
whatever the weather conditions might be.

After sleeping at the inn we turned out at
daybreak to find that the threatened storm had
broken. It was blowing great guns, and huge
masses of ragged-edged cloud chased each other
across the horizon. It was altogether a wild
morning, and I could see that we were in fqp a
" dusting." The run of sea one meets with in the
Crouch in heavy weather, under certain conditions

138 IN TIDAL WATERS

of wind and tide, is really astonishing. I have
known a seven-tonner to roll her rail under whilst
anchored at Fambridge, thirteen miles from the
mouth. But it is the character rather than the
size of the seas that renders them trying to small
craft, and Wave was very small indeed, being but
16 ft. over all, with a maximum beam of 5 ft. She
had originally been a small ship's boat, but the
brig to which she belonged had laid her bones to
rot upon the Gunfleet Sands. The boat had come
ashore from the wreck undamaged and was pur-
chased by a waterman, who fitted her with a false
keel and converted her into a tiny yacht. She was
a tubby little craft, and there was just room in the
cabin for two to sleep on the floor. When I bought
her the after-part of the boat was quite open, but
a sixteen hours' passage from Pin Mill to Bright-
lingsea, against a strong wind and heavy sea,
had convinced me of the need of some additional
protection and I therefore had waterways and
coamings fitted aft.

When we went on board the last of the ebb was
still running to leeward and the water comparatively
smooth, but I knew that when the flood began to
make there would be a nasty sea in the reach. To
stow the ballast at once was therefore imperative.
We could not afford to waste a moment, and so
decided to dispense with breakfast and make shift
with what I had in my bag. This consisted of a
pork pie and a flask of neat whisky, a villainous
combination that, even at this distant date, causes

THE SALT-WATER CURE 139

my gorge to rise at the mere thought. By ten
o'clock all was ready, and under a close-reefed
mainsail and storm jib we started on our journey.
The flood was now making up with some strength,
and, meeting the wind, knocked up a nasty hollow
sea. From the deck of a twenty -tonner the waves
would probably not have appeared anything out of
the way, but most things are comparative, and to
us in the little Wave the sea seemed heavy. With
boom eased right off she ran fast down the reach,
hanging for a moment upon the crest of each wave
before being hurled forward by the scend of the
sea. Then we hauled round the point, and, laying
over to the beam wind, fetched down to Branklet
Spit on a broad reach. Off this Spit a succession
of big seas are usually encountered in heavy weather,
for here two tides meet, and as we hauled our sheets
aboard for the beat up the Crouch we dashed into
them. The little sloop leaped at the first like a
chaser at a fence, flinging her bows high into the
air, but ere she could get into her stride the next
was upon her and she buried herself to the mast.
Green water poured aft over decks and cabin top,
drenching us to the skin, and for the next few
minutes the boat was like a half -tide rock. Presently
the sea became more regular in character and Wave,
falling into the rhythm of the seas, began to make
better weather of it. But misfortune followed in
our wake and we soon received a check. As we
approached the north shore of the Crouch the little
boat was overpowered in a great squall and the jib

140 IN TIDAL WATERS

blown literally to shreds. With the loss of her head-
sail Wave got out of hand and drove ashore. Here
was a pretty kettle of fish. Stranded as we were
on a lee shore the seas broke right over us, and in
the absence of a dinghy we had no means of laying
out an anchor. It seemed to me that the only way
to refloat her was to jump overboard and push her
off — a rather undignified method perhaps, but
eminently practical for all that.

Having bent on the second jib in readiness for
setting, I, without a thought of my cold, jumped
into the icy water up to my waist. To push her
bow round until she filled on the other tack was
the work of a moment, and she came off so fast that
I was almost left behind. In my struggles to get
on board I lost my footing and got thoroughly
soused up to my neck, but I was so wet before that
that did not trouble me much. I soon found that
the change of jibs had upset the boat's balance, and
thinking it better to be over-canvassed, rather than
carry lee helm in such weather, I shook out a reef
in the mainsail.

Sailing hard with her decks awash and a snoring
tide beneath her, Wave made excellent progress,
but as she smashed through the crests of the seas
a continuous cloud of stinging spray poured aft
into the well and wetted us as thoroughly as any
shower bath. My young friend, despite a thick
overcoat, was soon as wet as myself, and we had
not, indeed, a dry thread between us. My com-
panion's teeth chattered audibly, and the growing

THE SALT-WATER CURE 141

pallor of his countenance foretold the early loss of
his breakfast.

The anchorage at Burnham presented a wild
scene as we sailed through. Yachts were dragging
their ground tackle on either hand, whilst those that
held on bravely to their moorings pitched bows
under. One cutter had burst both cable and kedge
warp and was driving stern first through the fleet.
Had she not subsequently drifted foul of a mooring,
to which her crew managed to make fast, she would
certainly have gone ashore on the sea-wall and
sustained heavy damage. In one little yacht,
which had only been launched from her builder's
yard the previous afternoon, was a party of visitors,
who, having gone on board to inspect her in the
evening, had been compelled to remain all night.
Although I have an intimate knowledge of the
Crouch, extending over a period of more than
twenty years, I have never seen the river in such a
state as it was on that wild February morning.
As there was no prospect of finding a safe berth
for Wave at Burnham, I saw no alternative but to
fight our way up to Fambridge. So, hardening our
hearts, we turned our backs on the anchorage and
plugged on up river.

It was with feelings of relief that we passed
Creeksea Ferry, for we were then able to ease our
sheets for a reach of fully a mile. The wind being
now well off shore the water was comparatively
smooth; so, relinquishing the helm to my friend,
I seized the opportunity to bail out some of the

142 IN TIDAL WATERS

water that lay deep in the lee bilge. With covering
board just awash, Wave fled up Cliff Reach like a
frighted stag, and this part of the trip was all too
short. A few minutes later, however, we swung
round the point and met the wind almost end- on
in a furious squall. The yacht was hove down
until the water poured in a cascade over the lee
coamings into the well. She was almost on her
beam- ends and hung for a moment as if in doubt
whether to turn turtle or not. With the thought
in my mind that her ballast might shift and fall
bodily to leeward, I jumped to the mainsheet and
let it go with a run. The boat, almost water-logged,
slowly righted and we started to bail vigorously
with buckets as she drove across the river with her
foresail aback. The Reach presented a stormy
scene. The seas seemed to have no foot to them
and curled over and broke. The wind blew the
tops off the waves and white horses chased each
other the whole length of the Reach. Down to
leeward the seas broke against the sea-wall, and
clouds of spray leapt high into the air. Presently
we got going again and beat away up the river, but
in the short hollow seas the boat was as wet as a
submarine. Masses of icy water flew aft from the
weather bow and slapped us rudely in the face
until we fairly gasped for breath. But yard by
yard we won our way and eventually reached
Fambridge just at the turn of the tide.

To bring up in such a breeze was no easy matter,
and it was more by luck than judgment that we

THE SALT-WATER CURE 143

managed to pick up a mooring. But it would not
hold us, and we began to drag rapidly down the
Reach. I dropped the anchor, but still we dragged,
and I thought we should have to get under way
again. Fortunately we drifted close to a mooring
buoy, and, grabbing it with the boathook, soon had
the chain on board. This proved to be the mooring
of a ten-tonner and we were now securely anchored.
The little Wave, however, was performing the
wildest antics, rolling and pitching like a mad thing.
To stow the sails was a difficult matter and ere it
was completed I fell overboard. I was so numbed
with cold, and weighed down by my sodden clothes,
that I could not climb on board without assistance
from my companion, and even then it was with
some little difficulty that I regained the boat. This
second ducking was the last straw, and I was as
anxious to get ashore as my friend, who was feeling
very ill; but we had no dinghy and there was not
a soul about. We shouted and blew the foghorn
for a matter of two hours ere we attracted attention ;
but this was not altogether surprising as the land
near the river was in flood, owing to a large breach
in the sea-wall, and the nearest houses were a
quarter of a mile distant. At last we saw some one
climb on to the roof of a barn and wave his arm to
us and we knew that we were seen. We sat shiver-
ing in the wet cabin for another half-hour before
two sailing friends of mine appeared on the sea-
wall. They had made a perilous trip across, the
floods in a crazy old shooting-punt, and, although

144 IN TIDAL WATERS

in their shore clothes, started at once to launch a
boat and come to our assistance. But no sooner
was their boat afloat than she was blown away
down the river and they were compelled to land on
the mud far to leeward. Time after time they made
the attempt, each time in a different dinghy, with a
like result, and there was soon quite a flotilla of
dinghies anchored on the edge of the mud some
two hundred yards below us. Then they got the
ferry-boat and with much labour dragged it over
the mud for about a hundred yards to windward
before launching. This was the sixth attempt, and,
as they were using the last available boat, we
watched their movements with anxiety. Bows on
to wind and tide they rowed their hardest, straining
every muscle to reach Wave. Would they do it?
No ! they had just missed and we were plunged
into the depths of despair. Then we saw them
fetch Gertie — a five-tonner moored about fifty yards
astern — and our spirits rose again. I unrove the
peak halyards and mainsheet, and, bending on a
lifebuoy to the end, floated it down to them on the
tide. They secured the buoy and made fast the
rope to their boat. Then with a cheer we hauled
her up to Wave, and at last, after waiting for four
hours, we had established communication with the
shore. We tumbled into the boat without loss of
time, landed on the mud a quarter of a mile below
the hard, and waded through the slimy ooze to the
sea-wall. My young friend was past caring about
anything and walked through the soft mud in his

THE SALT-WATER CURE 145

socks, without even taking the trouble to turn
up his trousers, whilst all four of us were wet to
the skin. Strange to relate, however, my cold
had disappeared and my throat was completely
cured.

CHAPTER XV

BRINGING HOME THE BOAT

THE autumn has come to be regarded by yachts-
men as the most favourable season of the year for
the purchase of a new vessel, as it is generally
supposed that an owner anxious to dispose of his
boat will then accept a comparatively low price in
order to save the expense of laying her up for the
winter. Whether this theory is based upon fact
or merely a popular fallacy is open to question,
but there is no doubt that a large number of
yachts — notably small craft — change hands at the
fall of the year. The yachtsman who buys a boat
in the autumn, however, is apt to forget that he
may incur considerable expense in getting his new
purchase round to his home waters, particularly
if she be lying at a distant port. If he be wise he
will leave her where she is until the following
spring, when fine weather may be expected for the
trip ; but the average Corinthian yachtsman is far
too keen on his sport to possess his soul in patience
for a matter of four or five months, and usually
wants to play with his new toy at once. But
small yachts of four or five tons measurement,
being designed for summer sailing, are seldom suit-
ably rigged for passage-making in the winter, and

146

BRINGING HOME THE BOAT 147

the little vessel may be weather-bound in some port
en route for weeks together. If a waterman has
been engaged to sail the boat to her future head-
quarters, such delay, of course, makes for expense,
and by the time she arrives at her destination a
considerable sum has been added to the initial cost
°f purchase. The owner, if he have sufficient
leisure, may elect to sail the boat round himself,
and as he is not likely to be so careful in selecting
his weather as the professional, it is quite possible
that he may get a rare " dusting " in the process.
Looking back down a vista of years, I can recall
to mind a good many rough experiences in the way
of passage-making during the autumn and winter ;
but one in particular, although a comparatively
short trip, stands out prominently in my memory.
It happened in this wise.

A good many years ago, more indeed than I care
to think about, I was persuaded to assist a young
friend in taking a small boat from Greenhithe to
Fambridge-on-Crouch. The craft had been given
to my friend by a gentleman who had no further
use for her, and although the time of year was most
unsuitable for such a trip, her new owner was
anxious to get her round to his home waters.
Being at that time a comparative novice and
unacquainted with the mouth of the Thames, he
sought my services as pilot, and in a moment of
weakness I rashly consented to accompany him.
And so, one Saturday afternoon in October we
journeyed to Greenhithe to join the Heron. She
proved to be a little clinker-built canoe-yawl of some

148 IN TIDAL WATERS

18 ft. in length, with a beam of about 5 ft. 6 in.
She had a tiny cabin with a lifting roof, under
which, when raised, one could just sit upright.
She was yawl-rigged, and had perhaps 15 in. of
freeboard. The boat was, in fact, of about as
undesirable a type for an autumn trip round the
Whittaker as one could imagine.

The Heron had not been used for some little time,
and we found the gear in a horrid tangle. This
caused some little delay in starting, and it was
after four o'clock when we slipped from our moor-
ings just above the training ship Worcester. There
was a light westerly breeze, and with the aid of
an ebb tide we made fair progress. Gravesend
Reach is usually interesting an hour or two after
high water, for one sees vessels of every type and
tonnage wending their way seawards on the ebb.
That afternoon it presented a particularly ani-
mated scene. Out in the tideway were steamers
great and small, intermingled with square-rigged
sailing ships following in the wake of fussy little
tugs. Barges innumerable threaded their way 'midst
the maze of traffic, their red-brown sails brilliantly
lit up by the setting sun, adding a pleasing splash
of colour to the picture. Over by the Tilbury
shore a small flotilla of bawley boats trawled down
the Reach, a strong odour of cooking shrimps
bearing witness to the success of their fishing.
With the assistance of a snoring tide the little
Heron soon left this stirring scene astern, but with
a failing breeze the prospect of saving our daylight

BRINGING HOME THE BOAT 149

into Hole Haven, where we proposed to pass the
night, was a remote one. As darkness closed in
upon us we hugged the Essex shore to keep out of
the way of the traffic, and presently the Mucking
Light cast its ruddy beams across the face of the
waters. Away to starboard the lights of passing
vessels moved in ghostly fashion, whilst we, now
quite becalmed, laboured strenuously at the oar,
with supper and a bed at the Lobster Smack
Inn as our objective. As we neared the Haven a
smart breeze suddenly filled in from the north-
west, and in a few minutes the little yawl was
rushing through the Stygian waters with her lee
decks awash. Gathering in the sheets we laid
her head for the Haven, and, hugging the eastern
side of the entrance, crossed the bar and brought
up just above the hard. Having roughly stowed
the sails we hailed a Dutch eel schuijt anchored
near by, and one of her crew rowed off to put us
ashore.

After passing the night beneath the hospitable
roof of the Lobster Smack, we turned out next
morning at dawn to continue our journey to Fam-
bridge. It was too early to procure breakfast at
the inn, and, rather than waste the ebb, which was
already coming down, we decided to make shift
with a pork pie that we had brought with us in
case of emergencies. We found the causeway
deserted, and as, so far as we could see, there was
no dinghy available, the problem of how to Teach
the Heron seemed to defy solution. Then we

150 IN TIDAL WATERS

thought of the coastguard, and, hastening to the
look-out hut, asked the man on duty if he could
put us on board. Luckily, he knew where there
was an old boat, and in a few minutes the three of
us were hauling a crazy old craft over the sea-wall.
As the boat had been out of water for many months,
and her seams had opened, it was doubtful if she
would float, but the Heron was lying near at hand,
and we decided to risk it. When we left the hard,
the water began to pour in through every seam,
but by putting our feet up on the gunwale, we
contrived to keep comparatively dry. Our friendly
coastguard, however, was not so fortunate. As he
pulled lustily for the hard, after putting us on
board, the boat sank lower and lower in the water,
and, finally disappearing from view, left the luck-
less " man in blue " to wade ashore for some ten
yards.

After a frugal breakfast, consisting of a hunk of
pork pie, washed down with a cup of " fair water "
— as the poet hath it — we set about getting under
way. The morning was not altogether inviting,
being cold and cheerless, whilst a mizzle of rain
threatened to speedily wet us to the skin. Great
clumps of cloud chased one another across the sky,
and the wind came in angry little squalls out of
the south-west. But, anxious to save our tide
round the Whittaker, we set the whole mainsail,
and were soon roaring down the tideway towards
Southend. When off Leigh, the wind increased
in strength, and, fearing to carry on any longer, we

BRINGING HOME THE BOAT 151

lowered the mainsail and pulled down a reef, the
boat meanwhile running under mizzen and jib.
By the time the mainsail was reefed and set again,
we were below Southend Pier, and the wind had
increased so much that the little yawl had more
canvas than she wanted, even under her reduced
sail. Finding the boat very wild on her helm, we
furled the mizzen on the mast, and for a while she
travelled more comfortably. As we approached
the Maplin Lighthouse, however, it began to blow
really hard, and we lowered the mainsail again
whilst we considered our position. There was now
no turning back, for to beat over a Thames ebb
in a boat like the Heron was out of the question.
It was obvious that we must " face the music,"
so we close-reefed the mainsail, and hardened our
hearts for a " dusting." As we entered the Swin
we met the young flood, which soon knocked up an
ugly sea. The waves were short and hollow, and
steering became anxious work. The little boat would
hang on the crest of every sea, and then rush for-
ward midst seething foam, which sizzled along her
topsides, and frequently curled over on to the after-
deck. Every moment she threatened to broach-to,
and time after time we narrowly escaped disaster.
Near the Lightship we met a 10-ton cutter beating
up for Port Victoria, and, as she hove up her bows
to the head sea, her forefoot and several feet of her
keel were plainly visible. The water poured off her
decks in a regular cascade, and a continuous slower
of spray pattered on the glistening oilskins of her

152 IN TIDAL WATERS

crew. As we watched her crashing through the
seas, we thought with dismay of what lay before
us when wre should haul our wind to beat up the
Whittaker Channel.

We rounded the Beacon in a blinding rain squall,
and as we gathered in the sheets the Heron buried
herself to the coamings. At the same moment a
wave broke over the boat, and a seething torrent
rushed across the cabin top into the well. Already
the water swished about our ankles, and the thought
crossed my mind that if she shipped a few more
seas like that, our craft would be swamped.
;t Bail ! " I shouted to my companion.
"What with? "he yelled.

As if in reply to his question, his felt hat floated
out from the cabin, and was immediately pressed
into service.

Fortunately, the squall soon eased up, and the
Heron ceased to take water on board except in the
form of spray, which flew aft continuously from the
weather bow. What progress we made it was
impossible to say, as all marks were blotted out by
the heavy rain. Our only compass was a little
pocket toy, and, as the card revolved like a thing
demented, it was quite useless, and our navigation
was little more than guess-work. On the Buxey
side of the Channel the yawl refused to " stay," and
we consequently had to wear her every other board.
Then we discovered that the boat was working, and
she began to leak like a sieve. Hour after hour my
companion bailed until his hat was in the last

BRINGING HOME THE BOAT 153

stages of disintegration, yet he could only just
keep the water under. There were no doors to
the little cabin, and our shore-going clothes kept
washing out into the well and impeding the bailing
operations. Once, in the trough of the sea, we
bumped on the Whittaker Sand, and, had the
Heron missed stays when I put her about, this yarn
would never have been written. But Providence
takes care of foolhardy youngsters who go down
to the sea in two-tonners, and she came off in safety.

Our only hope now was to keep the Heron going
until there was water over the Buxey Sands, when
we could make a beam wind of it to Brightlingsea.
Wet through and cold, with an aching void in our
stomachs, and parched with thirst, the prospect
was a miserable one. Fortunately, however, we
were not called upon to put the idea into practice,
for suddenly the wind backed to the southward
and the rain ceased; We found we were between
the Ridge and West Buxey buoys, and, to our
great relief, could now lay a course into the Crouch.
This shift of wind completely altered the aspect
of affairs, for with eased sheets, we rapidly drew
into the land. Although frequent bailing was still
necessary, our troubles were at an end, and in less
than an hour we were in the Crouch, making short
miles of it to our destination, which we reached
without further misadventure.

Our clothes were, of course, utterly ruined, and
the boat herself never quite recovered from* the
strain. But we were only too thankful to get

154 IN TIDAL WATERS

safely into port, and although we have since had
many an exciting trip in small boats, this autumn
passage round the Whittaker Beacon, which is six
miles from the nearest land, stands out in our
memories as the most foolhardy adventure in which
we ever engaged.

CHAPTER XVI

" SNIPE "

I COVETED Snipe the very first time I saw her.
She looked such a powerful little ship as she came
beating up Fambridge Reach in the hard south-
west breeze, and sloshed through the short seas in
such convincing style that I then and there regis-
tered a vow that I would some day own her. And
sure enough I did, although it was not until a year
later.

My desire for a canoe-yacht dated, I think, from
my first reading a little book entitled Cruises in
Small Yachts and Big Canoes, a delightful volume
that I am not even now too blase to enjoy. The
accounts of the cruises made in Viper by the
author, Mr. H. F. Speed, fired my imagination, and
I was quite determined that by hook or by crook I
would some day have a boat of similar type. Snipe ,
so far as I could judge from seeing her under way,
was an improved Viper, and promised to have
infinitely better accommodation below decks.

Unfortunately she was not for sale at that time,
and so I had to possess my soul in patience and
wait until her owner tired of her. Although she
left the Crouch to take up her quarters at Pin Mill
shortly after I had seen her, I made frequent in-
quiries about her from friends who sailed on the

155

156 IN TIDAL WATERS

Orwell. At last my persistency was rewarded, for
I learnt that Snipe's owner had bought a big
yawl.

Although I did not know in the least whether he
proposed to part with Snipe I thought it worth
while going to Pin Mill to see him. At first he
declined to sell the boat, saying that he meant to
keep her for sailing about in the river, but I stuck
to him all the afternoon like the proverbial leech,
and in the end bought her for £35, an absurdly
low price for a smart little cruiser barely four years
old. And I did not grudge him the extra £4 I
paid for a 7-ft. Berthon dinghy almost new.

Snipe was designed and built by Pengelly and
Gore, of Teignmouth, in 1895, and that they made
a good job of her is evident from the fact that she
is still quite sound and tight after more than twenty
years' constant use. Her principal dimensions are,
length over all, 18 ft. ; beam, 6 ft. ; and draught,
3 ft. 6 in. ; and with 26 cwt. of iron ballast, half on
the keel and half inside in the form of pigs, she is
as stiff as a church. She is planked with red pine
on a frame of oak, and has good freeboard and a
particularly nice midship section. Her decks are
of pine, laid in narrow planks set off with teak
covering board and coamings, and the low cabin-
top is covered with canvas painted white for the
sake of coolness. She is sloop-rigged with Turner's
patent reefing gear on the mainsail and originally
had a roller foresail, but that I soon discarded as
I regard such a contrivance, when set upon a bow-
sprit, as an abomination in a cruising boat. The

' SNIPE ' 157

total sail area was 234 sq. ft., without the topsail,
which has been added since I sold her.

Snipe's cabin is really astonishing for such a
small boat. One can sit upright comfortably on
the sofa bunks, which are not unduly close to the
floor, and still have several inches to spare over
one's head; but when I bought her the cabin was
very sparsely furnished. It contained little more
than two folding cots attached to the sides of the
boat and bunk cushions covered with Willesden
canvas. Nothing, therefore, stood in the way of
fitting her up to my liking, and when finished I
was proud of the result.

The sofa cushions I had covered with red pegamoid
and the folding cots with dark blue art serge. The
cabin was divided off from the fo'c'stle with dark
blue curtains held back with red silk ribbon. A
dark blue tablecloth, embroidered at the corners
with old gold silk, covered a neat little table, whilst
a red silk shade hung above the gimballed cabin
lamp, which was attached to the mast. On the
floor were Turkey rugs, and red silk curtains
covered the little windows in the coamings. The
cots, which had horsehair mattresses, were most
comfortable to sleep in, and when folded back
during the day made soft backs to the sofas. At
the end of one of the sofas was a useful cupboard
fitted up as a pantry, and the stoves and cooking
utensils were stowed away out of sight in the
fo'c'stle. In the centre of the cabin-top I fitted
a brass mushroom ventilator, which kept the cabin
well aired without letting in the rain. Other

158 IN TIDAL WATERS

fittings I put in were a bookshelf, a pipe-rack, a
small eellarette to hold three or four bottles, and a
glass rack, and on the coaming at the fore-end of
the cabin were placed an eight-day clock and an
aneroid to match. A heavy spittoon, kept under
the table, made a splendid ash tray, for which
purpose it was solely used.

As the yacht was quite tight and had considerable
rise of floor the lockers under the bunks were
really useful, and in them I stowed such articles
as tinned provisions, bottled ale, the chart case,
burgees, and various other things that are usually
awkward to house. For fresh water I used a two-
gallon beer- jar of stoneware, which was fitted with
a tap and a handle for carrying purposes. This
jar was lashed at the end of one of the well seats,
and I found it far more satisfactory than any tank
or breaker. A small well-tent proved useful in wet
weather for washing up and cooking when at anchor,
and also enabled me to procure privacy for dressing
when in a crowded harbour. A semi-rotary pump
on the bulkhead could be worked with one hand
whilst steering, if necessary, but as a matter of fact
was seldom used except after heavy rain. A large
locker in the stern accommodated spare sails and
warps and the kedge stowed away nicely under
the well floor. The riding light, when not in use,
was lashed to the heel of the mast on the fore side,
so that it was out of the way, and the binnacle was
shipped on the bulkhead in a position convenient
to the helmsman. In the well there were lockers
both under the seats and beneath the side decks,

'SNIPE' 159

and one I used as a larder, boring holes in the door
for purposes of ventilation.

When I bought the boat her topsides were painted
white, which accentuated her generous freeboard
and gave her a rather tubby appearance, but I
had her burnt off and enamelled black, which, with
a gold line to set it off, made her look much smarter
and more shapely. The sails, although in quite
good condition, did not set to my liking and so I
had a new suit made by Cranfield, of Burnham,
which set to perfection. The old sails were dressed
with oil and ochre for use in the winter. I discarded
the roller foresail, and also scrapped the rigging
screws, substituting wire lanyards in their place.

When the alterations were completed Snipe was
as smart a little cruiser as one could wish for, and
it would be difficult to imagine anything more snug
and homely than her cabin. Of the score of boats
I have owned she still retains first place in my
affections, and I have never ceased to regret the
day when I yielded to temptation and accepted
an offer of practically twice what I had paid for
her.

Accompanied by a friend I joined Snipe at Pin
Mill one day in May with the idea of going for a
short cruise before taking her home to Fambridge.
The alterations which I have described had not
been then carried out, and as the boat was very
short of necessary cabin gear we had to take a
good deal of luggage with us. When we arrived
at Ipswich and saw it all collected together on the
platform we looked at the pile with dismay. In

160 IN TIDAL WATERS

addition to two portmanteaux full of clothes, there
were two large kit-bags containing blankets and
bedding, a riding light, binnacle and compass, lead
and line, a case of provisions, a two-gallon stone
jar for water, a case of charts, two Primus stoves,
various cooking utensils, and sundry odds and ends
of which the exact nature is not recorded in my
old log-book. And I still had to pick up a kedge
and warp ordered by post.

How to get all this gear down to Pin Mill was
something of a problem. To take it by water was
out of the question as the steamer does not stop
at Pin Mill, merely slowing down to drop passengers
into the ferry-boat. In the end we decided to
charter a cab, and with our luggage piled high on
the roof of a decrepit old fly we made the six-mile
journey by road.

We found Snipe lying at moorings on the very
outskirts of the anchorage, so leaving our luggage
on the hard, we put off in the little Berthon dinghy
with the idea of bringing the yacht down to a berth
close to the causeway. Our tiny collapsible dinghy
looked more like half a walnut shell than anything
else, but carried us bravely. Indeed, we subse-
quently discovered that she would take three men
of average weight in safety, provided that the water
was quite smooth and nobody sneezed.

As soon as we were on board I slipped the mooring,
and unrolling the foresail dropped down to the
hard. Not being acquainted with the river, how-
ever, I stood in too close and Snipe took the mud.
The tide was ebbing fast and our efforts to refloat

' SNIPE' 161

her proving unsuccessful we had to abandon all
thoughts of starting that day. Having laid out
the anchor, we proceeded to get our gear on board,
an operation that necessitated a good many trips
in the little dinghy, and by the time we had done
this Snipe had assumed a pronounced list. Seeing
that there would be no comfort on board until she
floated again, we went ashore to do some neces-
sary shopping in the village and have tea at the
picturesque waterside inn.

It was late in the evening ere Snipe floated again,
and by the time we had shifted her into deeper
water and roughly stowed our gear it was ten
o'clock. We therefore turned in, fully intending to
make an early start on the morrow. The accom-
modation seemed positively palatial after the pill-
box cabin of the little Wave to which we had been
accustomed, and the canvas cots were most comfort-
able. So much so, indeed, that we did not wake
until nearly ten o'clock the following morning and
so missed our tide. We did not mind very much,
however, as there was a flat calm, and even if we
had left on the last of the ebb, as we had intended,
we probably should not have got very far down
the river. So we dallied with our breakfast and
enjoyed the glorious scenery.

Pin Mill is probably the most beautiful spot on
the East Coast. Both shores of the river are
densely wooded to the very water's edge, the upper
reaches of the Orwell being not unlike the Dart or
Fal. Pin Mill, indeed, bears a strong resemblance
to King Harry's Ferry on the latter river, and it

162 IN TIDAL WATERS

is a pleasant surprise to find such scenery in East
Anglia. It is an ideal anchorage for small yachts,
which can lie in a little bay under the shore of
Woolverstone Park out of the way of passing traffic.
We devoted the rest of the morning to setting
up the rigging and overhauling the gear generally.
After lunch, when the tide had turned, we got under
way bound for Felixstowe Dock, where I had
arranged to meet one of the Fambridge boats with
which we proposed to cruise in company. The
breeze was light and rather flukey, as it usually is
above Collimer Point, and for a time our progress
was slow. But when at last we got clear of the
trees, and felt the true breeze, Snipe began to mend
her pace. I was pleased to find that she went to
windward very well and handled beautifully, and
was delighted with my new ship. So much so,
indeed, that I had not the heart to go into the dock
when we approached the entrance, and so we sailed
about Harwich Harbour for an hour or more ere
we turned into the dock to look for our friend.
" There she is," cried my companion as we opened
out the basin, and it needed but a glance to identify
the Pride of the Crouch, as some wag had dubbed
her, lying in the tier at the top of the dock, for
she was painted a brilliant green. Lowering our
mainsail and rolling up the foresail, we carried just
sufficient way to a vacant berth alongside, and in
ten minutes Snipe was moored securely. But
where was the owner of the Pride? He was not
on board, although his clothes were— hanging over
the boom and dripping with water — whilst a pair

•SNIPE' 163

of brown shoes did sentry-go on the cabin-top.
It was obvious that these were my friend's shore-
going clothes, for the costume he wore when sailing
was of the useful rather than ornamental order.

" I see him," exclaimed my companion, and
looking up I saw my old friend standing up in his
diminutive dinghy which he was wangling across
the dock towards us.

Known to the sporting Press as " The Genial
Harry," he is perhaps better known to his intimate
friends as " Doggy," on account of a taste he
formerly had for dog-racing. In the days of his
youth he was wont to repair to Kensal Rise, where,
in the company of the elite of the dog-racing
fraternity, he would shout encouragement to a
much-beloved whippet. He had retired from that
aristocratic sport some years before I made his
acquaintance, but was still subject to relapses, and
on one such occasion I joined him.

At that time we were living together in rooms at
Fambridge, and he owned what he was pleased to
call a dog, an extraordinary animal which he had
acquired for a few shillings from the Dogs' Home
to save it from the lethal chamber. I suppose it
really was a dog, although I cannot say that I ever
saw another like it. Its body was that of a small
greyhound, but its coat was long— as also was its
tail — whilst it had the head of a terrier. A queer-
looking animal certainly, but there was no denying
Sailor's running powers, and his owner was thirsting
to pit him against other dogs. An opportunity
soon presented itself, a terrier coursing meeting

164 IN TIDAL WATERS

being advertised to take place at Burnham on
Boxing Day. Doggy, therefore, decided to take
Sailor and enter for any course that might be open
to him.

Any one who saw us walking up to the station on
the morning of the meeting might have thought we
were bound upon a poaching expedition, for there
was nothing about Sailor to suggest a competitor in
a sporting contest. His owner, ever simple in his
tastes, eschewed such vanities as dog-collars, but
as Sailor was somewhat given to roving, he had
thought it expedient to take steps to ensure his
safe arrival at the coursing venue. With this end
in view he had secured the dog with a short length
of old frayed-out clothes line, at the end of which
Sailor slunk behind us with his long tail between
his legs.

The dog had evidently been trained by some
previous owner in the art of travelling without a
ticket, and as soon as the carriage door was opened
he jumped in and, disappearing beneath the seat,
remained there until we reached our destination.
There was quite a crowd on the platform at Burn-
ham, and terriers of all sorts and sizes strained at
the leash and snapped at one another. The advent
of Sailor created something of a sensation, and there
was much merriment when Doggy hauled him out
on the end of the clothes line.

" What are you laughing at, you idiots ? " said
Doggy indignantly. " The dog's all right; he's
had his breakfast."

This made them laugh more than ever, and there

* SNIPE5 165

was much banter as we pushed through the crowd
and made our way to the meadow where the cours-
ing was to take place.

When Doggy presented himself before the Com-
mittee and asked permission to enter his dog, he
was received with broad smiles. " Where is the
dog ? " they inquired.

" Why, this is the dog, of course," said Doggy,
hauling the wretched Sailor forward by the head.

The smiles of the Committee gave place to
audible titters which finally merged into a roar of
laughter.

44 What do you call it ? " some one gasped at last.

" Call it? " shouted Doggy. " Don't you know a
Japanese boarhound when you see one ? "

44 Ah, a most interesting specimen," said the
President of the Club, 44 but, you see, this meeting
is confined to terriers and there is no class for
boarhounds. But," he added, 4C if you can find
another dog anything like him we shall be pleased
to arrange a match for them."

This seemed a rather forlorn hope as Sailor was
unique among dogs, but perseverance was in the
end rewarded, for late in the afternoon he was
matched against Buller, the property of a local
sportsman, to run a course for a shilling a side, the
loser to take the rabbit. Buller was not in the
least like Sailor, being a sort of long-legged bull-
terrier with plum-pudding spots all over him, but
the Committee evidently thought the match Would
afford a diverting wind-up to the meeting.

The start could hardly be described as a good

166 IN TIDAL WATERS

one, as the dogs seemed to be under the impression
that fighting was the business on hand, and the
rabbit, therefore, got away with a useful lead.
But when at last they thought fit to give chase,
Sailor ran like a greyhound and was hard upon the
heels of the quarry when the latter disappeared
into the ditch on the far side of the large meadow.
The yelping Sailor leapt in in hot pursuit and stayed
there, oblivious to the fact that the rabbit had come
out again and fallen a prey to the more wily Buller.
Thus was the truth of the old aphorism that the
race is not always to the swift once more exemplified.

Then, from the outskirts of the crowd, appeared
a small boy who seized the rabbit and made off
with it. Now, it will be remembered that by the
terms of the match the rabbit fell to the loser, and
Doggy, seeing his property being carried away,
gave vent to a roar of rage and dashed off in pursuit.
The boy, if small, was extremely agile and led Doggy
a pretty dance in and out of the crowd, through
ditches and over stiles until, realising that his
capture was imminent, he dropped the spoil and
made off in the gathering dusk. Every one agreed
that it was the prettiest course of the day, and
Doggy received quite an ovation as he returned
from the chase carrying the much-mauled rabbit
by its hind legs.

Having rescued Sailor, minus half an ear, from
the centre of a dog fight of Homeric proportions,
we made our way homewards to eat the rabbit for
supper, and thus ended my first and only experience
of the noble sport of dog-racing.

'SNIPE1 167

" Well," remarked Doggy, as he drew up his
chair to the fire, " they say that there is a silver
lining to every cloud. Although I lost my shilling
I got the rabbit, which was worth at least ninepence,
and you can't expect to get a good day's sport for
much less than threepence, can you? "

CHAPTER XVII

CRUISING IN "SNIPE"

WE must now return to Felixstowe Dock, across
which, it will be remembered, Doggy was wangling
his little dinghy when I was seduced into that long
digression on dog-racing in the last chapter. When
he joined us we at once questioned him as to the
meaning of so much of his clothing being hung out to
dry, and after a little persuasion he told us the
whole story.

It appeared that in the course of the morning he
had walked over to Felixstowe town, which is
some distance from the dock, and whilst there had
met some friends — an elderly lady and her ex-
tremely pretty and attractive daughter. On the
spur of the moment he had invited them to drive
over to the dock in the afternoon and have tea
with him on the Pride, an invitation which was
readily accepted. The remainder of the morning
he had spent in making preparations to receive his
guests, as the appointments of the Pride's cabin
were of a nature that might almost be described
as Spartan. The purchase of a few little refine-
ments, such as a tablecloth and some cups and
saucers, was therefore a matter of urgent necessity,
and having procured what he deemed requisite,

168

CRUISING IN * SNIPE' 169

Doggy hurried back to the boat to prepare the
cabin for the reception of visitors.

Those who knew the cabin of the Pride in those
days will, I think, agree that it afforded consider-
able scope for talent in that direction, as it was
but little suited to social amenities. It was divided
practically into two by a huge iron centre-plate
case, not altogether guiltless of rust, whilst the
somewhat shabby sofa cushions might have been
stuffed with granite for all the comfort they afforded.
The sole furniture consisted of a beer-bottle crate
with a roughly- made lid, which enjoyed the cour-
tesy title of table. But Doggy did his best, and,
what with a white cloth hiding the primitive
nature of the table, the new cups and saucers, a
plateful of fancy cakes, and some cut flowers in
a marmalade pot, the cabin was made to look quite
gay and homely. But the fates decreed that that
tea-party should not take place.

When he saw his visitors arrive on the quay,
D°ggy rowed off in the dinghy to fetch them,
attired, of course, in his best shore-going clothes.
The dinghy unfortunately was not only very small,
but also very crank and totally inadequate for a
pleasure party. Fully aware of its shortcomings,
he was careful to impress upon his friends the
necessity for caution, and for the sake of safety
proposed to take off the mother first and then come
back for the daughter.

Holding on to the edge of the slippery pontoon
with one hand, he held out the other gallantly to
assist the lady. " Step well into the middle of

170 IN TIDAL WATERS

the boat," he warned her. The lady did. In fact
she stepped out so bravely as to land almost on
the opposite gunwale, and the result was both
startling and disastrous.

For a moment nothing was to be seen on the face
of the waters but an overturned boat and a straw
hat. Doggy's head emerged almost immediately,
but seeing that his companion in misfortune was
still under water and evidently foul of either the
boat or the pontoon, he dived at once in search
of her.

In the meantime, the daughter was in hysterics
on top of the pontoon, whilst a slightly inebriated
soldier surveyed the proceedings with interest from
the quay above.

When Doggy reappeared with the unfortunate lady
the first words he heard came from the soldier,
who called out —

"That's right, Gov'nor; drown the old woman
first."

And having proffered this sapient advice, the
representative of His Majesty's Army turned upon
his heel, and made a bee-line for the four-ale bar
of the Pier Hotel.

Fortunately the weather was warm and the old
lady suffered no ill - effects from her accident,
although she had to remain in bed at the hotel
for some hours whilst her daughter drove over to
the town to procure dry clothing for her.

It was after eight o'clock the following morning
when I turned out to find the young flood already
making. A slight haze hung over Harwich Har-

CRUISING IN 'SNIPE' 171

bour, and there was not sufficient wind to raise a
ripple on the water. Getting under way was ob-
viously out of the question, and having decided
to defer starting until high water, we set about
getting breakfast in leisurely fashion. Felixstowe
Dock was in those days a very pleasant, comfortable
berth for a small yacht, as it was not then used as a
coaling station for destroyers, but it was not alto-
gether without its disadvantages. Perhaps the main
drawback was that one could not bathe. I have
seen men swimming about in the dock occasionally,
but personally I cannot fancy bathing in an arti-
ficial basin, as all the refuse of the surrounding
district seems to collect in such places. If we had
had a larger dinghy we might have rowed out into
the harbour for a morning dip, but my tiny Ber-
thon boat was far too small for such a purpose, and
we came to the conclusion that sufficient bathing
had already been done from the Pride's dinghy.
After breakfast Doggy walked over to Felixstowe
to see his friends, whilst we loafed about ashore
waiting for the turn of the tide.

At high water we slipped from our moorings and
made our way slowly out of the dock with the aid
of a sweep. There was insufficient wind to keep
the sails asleep, but the ebb was now running hard
down the Felixstowe shore carrying us out to
Landguard Point. I wonder why it is a drifting
boat always seems to prefer travelling sideways, or
even stern first? A sailing boat going stern* first
is, to my mind, about as undignified a spectacle
as a motor-cycle being pushed; but rowing a heavy

172 IN TIDAL WATERS

boat beneath a sweltering sun is a weariness to the
flesh, and we soon desisted from our labours and let
Snipe drift whither she listed. Despite the calm
there was the usual jabble of sea on the Rolling
Ground and the little boat rolled abominably.
Pots and pans in the fo'c'stle kept up an indescrib-
able din and the boom banged viciously from side to
side. All the time I had to sit on deck with my legs
over the side holding off the dinghy, which nestled
up to Snipe like a day-old chick to its mother.

Presently a black line spread across the face of
the waters indicating the advent of a breeze. It
gradually grew nearer and nearer, and then the
mainsail gave a final bang and went to sleep.
The boat gathered way and began to discourse
sweet music as her bow cleft the water. Soon we
were passing Bawdsey Haven, with its treacherous
bar and the late Sir Cuthbert Quilter's big house
standing out prominently on the point. This im-
posing mansion, which forms a useful sea-mark,
seems to stand upon a rocky cliff, but the rocks, it is
said, are artificial. Be that as it may, the effect
from the sea is very fine, and if one lands for a
closer inspection one will find a most glorious rock
garden that is well worth a visit.

We were bound for Aldeburgh by way of the
River Ore, which for nine miles runs almost paral-
lel with the coast. With a nice little breeze on the
quarter it did not take us very long getting to Shingle
Street, where this extraordinary river empties itself
into the sea. In fact, we reached the entrance too
soon, as the tide was still ebbing strongly. Orford

CRUISING IN 'SNIPE' 173

Haven, with its shifting bar of shingle and strong
tides, is, I think, the most treacherous harbour
entrance on the East Coast, and a pilot is almost
a necessity. Approaching as near as we dared, we
hoisted our pilot jack and hove- to, but to our
chagrin nobody took the slightest notice. So we
jilled about off the entrance tootling lustily on the
fog-horn to attract attention; but an hour or
more had elapsed ere we £aw a small white boat put
out under a lugsail. It was the pilot at last and in
a few minutes he was alongside. He explained
that he had seen our signal, but to have come off
before would have been useless, as, despite the fair
wind, we should not have been able to stem the
tide, which at spring runs something like seven
knots on the first of the ebb. Having made fast
the pilot's boat astern of Snipe, we let the foresail
draw and headed for the entrance.

Orford Haven is a weird place. Great heaps of
shingle and broken water are the predominant
features and the tide runs like a mill-race. Ashore
there is a row of cottages and an inn, but nothing
else to mark the entrance to this inhospitable
haven. There are certainly some small beacons
on the beach to act as leading marks, but they are
difficult to locate, and the yachtsman who attempts
the entrance without a pilot risks his life and
property. The channel changes so frequently that
even the local craft employ the pilots, although the
fee is five shillings or more according to the draught
of the vessel. Our pilot warned us that he could
not take us very far in on the ebb, but with a

174 IN TIDAL WATERS

leading wind thought he could coax Snipe into a
berth where she would lie comfortably until the
flood made. Presently we were creeping along
the edge of the steep-to shingle bank, the motion
of the boat through the water causing the shingle
to fall in. Even in fine weather there are overfalls
in the entrance, and during the winter gales it is a
hell of seething water. Under such conditions the
pilots do not attempt to put off to vessels, but
wave them in with flags from the shore. Keeping
within a few feet of the shingle bank, where the
tide was comparatively slack, we contrived to get
just inside the entrance, but when we met the full
force of the tide the boat began to drop back, and
there was no alternative but to anchor. This we
accordingly did, paying out our whole scope of
chain. The little boat rode uneasily in the strong
tideway, sheering about wildly, and the dinghy
which lay astern cocked her nose out of the water
as if she were being towed by a fast motor launch.
After the pilot had left us we had tea and then, as
we should have to wait some time for the flood,
decided to go ashore.

Hauling the dinghy alongside we got in cautiously
and pushed off. I kept the boat's head well up
to the tide, and rowing for all I was worth we
gradually worked our way shorewards, losing less
ground than I anticipated. When the keel of the
dinghy grated on the shingle, I jumped out with
the painter on to the steep-to shore. To my dismay,
the shingle slid away from under my feet and I
sprawled full length. I could feel myself sliding

CRUISING IN * SNIPE' 175

back into the water, and it was only by a great
effort with hands and feet that I managed to save
myself. After crawling cautiously for a few yards
over the treacherous shingle, I found firmer ground,
and was able to stand up and hold the dinghy
painter taut for the assistance of my companion,
who soon joined me. Then we walked towards the
cottages we had seen as we entered the Haven.

The first person we met was the Coastguard
officer, who seemed delighted at finding some one
to talk to. He took us into his cottage and regaled
us with bottled ale, telling us many strange things
about the place. Every change of wind, he in-
formed us, affected the entrance and the channel
constantly altered. The entrance, he said, had not
changed materially for some months, but there
were indications that it would soon shift further to
the north. This proved to be correct, for when I
visited Shingle Street a few weeks later, the entrance
was fully half a mile to the northward of where it
had been when we first entered the Haven. The
old channel had closed up altogether, a great bank
of shingle perhaps 30 ft. high filling the gap. When
we left our Coastguard friend he half filled our
dinghy with vegetables, the produce of his garden,
which kept us supplied for the best part of a week.

By six o'clock the tide had run off sufficiently to
enable us to proceed, and boarding Snipe we got
under way. As we proceeded up the river the tide
grew slacker, and with a fair wind we made gpod
progress. Once away from the entrance, and the
Ore is an excellent sailing river with plenty of good

176 IN TIDAL WATERS

honest sailing water between banks that are fairly
steep-to. But it is a most extraordinary river for
all that, running practically parallel with the shore
for a distance of ten miles. All that separates it
from the sea is a narrow bank of shingle, at places
no more than a hundred yards in width, and as one
sails up the river the roar of the sea breaking upon
the shore can be heard plainly. Three miles from
Shingle Street, Havergate Island divides the river
into two channels. There is ample water for a
small craft in either, but we took the southern
channel as being the more direct route. A mile
above Havergate Island is situated Orford, with its
pretty village and fine old castle; and as we had
been recommended to make a point of dining at
the Crown and Castle Hotel, we brought up there
in a snug berth for the night and went ashore.

Turning to my old pencil-scribbled log-book I
find the following remark : " Dined at the Crown and
Castle, where they gave us a dinner fit for the gods ;
soup, boiled salmon, loin of lamb, asparagus, sweets,
and cheese." This strikes one as not altogether bad
for a little country hotel to supply at a moment's
notice. But in the late Mr. George Hunt's time
the Crown and Castle had a reputation for good
fare that attracted yachtsmen from all parts of
the East Coast. Mr. Hunt was himself a keen
yachtsman, who took a leading part in the pro-
motion of the local regattas, and we spent a plea-
sant evening " talking boats " with him.

Before leaving the next morning we paid another
visit ashore to look at the castle, of which a portion

CRUISING IN 'SNIPE' 177

is still in an excellent state of preservation. The
castle is very old: so old, we were told, that no
reliable record of its origin can be traced. The
walls of the great round tower are said to be
20ft. thick, and one enters by a door on the first
floor approached by a flight of external steps.
There are four storeys, and on the third is a furnished
room which was fitted up by the Marquess of
Hertford when he owned the property. I believe the
Hunt dinner is still held in this room, and it is a
great resort of picnic parties. Climbing to the top
of the tower we had a splendid view of the North
Sea and the surrounding country. Near by is the
Manor of Sudbourne, formerly the residence of the
Marquess of Hertford, who is said to have been
the original of Thackeray's Marquess of Steyne.
On the way back to the quay we inspected the old
church, which dates from the eighth century. The
chancel is separated from the nave and lies in
ruins, and a portion of the tower has fallen. It was
certainly a picturesque old building, but we did
not tarry long as we were anxious to save our tide
up to Aldeburgh.

We should have liked to have paid a visit to
Orford Ness Lighthouse, but did not fancy trudg-
ing a mile or more each way across the shingle,
for the bank that separates the Aldeburgh river
from the sea is here at its widest. Moreover, there
was no more than a light air from the south-east,
and had we delayed our departure any longer Ve
should have lost our tide to Aldeburgh. And so
we went on board and got under way. We had not

N

178 IN TIDAL WATERS

proceeded very far when Snipe ran on to a mud
flat. We tried to push her off with the sweep, but
the mud was too soft. We could not afford to
waste much time if we were to save the flood up
the river and so decided to lay out the kedge.
This I found a rather ticklish job with our little
7-ft. Berthon dinghy, but by slinging the anchor
over the stern of the dinghy, secured by a line,
I contrived to drop it safely. With the assistance
of the kedge we soon hauled Snipe off, but in the
meantime the breeze had completely died away.
But by taking it in turns to row with the sweep,
we managed to save our tide and reached the
anchorage just as the boats were swinging.

All the way from Orford to Aldeburgh the river
and coast-line converge, and at Slaughdon, where
we anchored, the shingle bank is at its narrowest.
The river there takes an abrupt turn inland, the
channel, navigable on the tide as far as Iken,
meandering through wide mud flats. It seems
strange that the river should never have burst
through the narrow bank of shingle at Slaughdon,
but I suppose the shingle is kept in place by some
trick of the coast tide.

Slaughdon is a quaint little old-world fishing
village adjoining Aldeburgh, and there is a capital
anchorage off the quay, where one can land at all
states of tide. It is only a short walk into the town
of Aldeburgh, a pleasant little seaside resort with a
capital golf course for those who follow the " Royal
and Ancient " game. The principal feature of inte-
rest is the old Moot Hall. This picturesque fifteenth-

CRUISING IN 'SNIPE' 179

century building originally stood in the centre of
the town, but owing to the coast erosion is now
on the beach. We had no intention of staying at
Aldeburgh as our short holiday was rapidly draw-
ing to a close, and we had only two days left in
which to get back to Fambridge. Having done a
little necessary shopping, we returned to our boat,
and after lunch got under way homeward bound.

Whilst we had been ashore a fine easterly breeze
had filled in and we had a slashing sail down to the
mouth of the river, where we brought up for the
night close to the College bathing place. After
dinner we went ashore to arrange with the pilot
to take us out in the morning and to pay a farewell
visit to our Coastguard friend.

Of the passage home my log-book says nothing
beyond bald references to winds, time and tides.
We were sailing old familiar waters, and as far
as I remember the trip was without any special
incident. Snipe, during this short trial trip, more
than came up to my expectations, and as soon as
I reached my home waters I commenced to refit
her in readiness for a holiday cruise.

CHAPTER XVIII

EASTER YACHTING

ALTHOUGH a few hardy spirits make a practice
of keeping their craft afloat throughout the year,
the majority of small yacht-owners berth their
boats ashore for the winter and commission them
again at Easter. At that season the yachtsman
looks for bright spring weather ; and the temptation
of a few days' cruising, after being so long divorced
from his sport, is more than he can resist. The
realisation, however, seldom fulfils the promise of
the anticipation, for as often as not the weather
is quite unsuitable for small-yacht cruising. During
the past fifteen years the Easter holidays that have
been graced with really good sailing weather might
be counted upon the fingers of one hand, but hope
springs eternal in the human breast, and as sure as
March comes round one fits out one's yacht for an
Easter cruise. At no other time of year are the
meteorological conditions so uncertain, and the
hapless wight who ventures far afield has every
prospect of experiencing a severe " dusting " ere
he returns to his moorings.

Looking back down a vista of years, the worst
Easter that I can recall to mind was that of 1900,
and few who spent the holiday afloat are likely to
forget it. Accompanied by a friend, I joined my

180

EASTER YACHTING 181

little 3-ton canoe-yacht Snipe at Fambridge on the
Thursday evening, having mapped out a cruise to
Harwich and Aldeburgh; but "the best-laid plans
of mice and men gang aft agley," and that trip was
never taken. It was a cheerless evening, and the
glass was tumbling down in the most ominous
manner. The wind came in fitful gusts, and a
mizzle of rain added to our discomfort as we rowed
off from the hard in a folding dinghy heavily laden
with luggage and stores. As is usually the case
when a yacht has just been launched, there was
much to be done, and the shades of night had long
fallen ere everything was stowed away and the
cabin shipshape. We therefore decided to defer
our start until the morrow, and, with an anxious
glance at the still falling barometer, turned in
early.

I was rudely awakened about midnight by being
flung out of my bunk, but did not fall very far, as
I alighted on top of my companion, who had
already been thrown upon the floor. Struggling
up, I found the matches, and lighted the lamp.
The boat was rolling abominably, and everything
that could possibly break adrift had done so. My
friend, still half-asleep, was extricating himself
from a pile of blankets, cushions, books, and other
items of the ship's inventory which had collected
in a heap on top of him. It was blowing a heavy
westerly gale, and the glass had fallen three-tenths
of an inch since we turned in. The din was* inde-
scribable. Sundry saucepans and kettles had fallen
from the shelf in the fo'c'stle, and were clanging

182 IN TIDAL WATERS

about on the floor; the china clattered in the
pantry, and the chain cable banging against a
bucket added its quota to the general cacophony.
Without, the wind howled in the rigging, and the
boom, which had got adrift from the crutch, banged
about viciously, dragging the mainsheet-block
backwards and forwards along the iron horse.
Hastily donning my nether garments and a monkey-
jacket, I went out into the night. It was a wild
scene. Great clouds obscured the full moon, and
white horses chased each other across the face of
the waters. All around, riding lights danced mer-
rily from the forestays of the yachts at anchor,
on several of which ghostly figures moved about
securing gear that had broken adrift. Lying
athwart the tide, the Snipe was rolling her covering
board under, and it was with no little difficulty
that I got the boom end down on to the main horse
and securely lashed. Then, having accomplished
my task, I crept shivering into the little cabin.
To sleep on the bunks was out of the question, so
we put a mattress on the floor, and, wedging our-
selves in as best we could, contrived to pass the
remainder of the night in fitful dozing.

We awoke in the morning to find the gale blowing
with unabated vigour, but the young flood not
having yet gathered strength, the river was smoother
than it had been over-night. I went on deck to
have a look round, and discovered that the dinghy
had disappeared. A pull on the painter, which
was still made fast to the main horse, apprised me
of the fact that the boat had sunk. Hauling her

EASTER YACHTING 183

to the surface, I found that one of her canvas sides
had been torn right out, probably by the fluke of
the anchor, which was catted on the bow. The
dinghy being of no practical use until repaired, I
hailed the passing ferry-boat, and had it taken
ashore. It was a cold, cheerless morning, and
cruising being out of the question on account of
the heavy weather, we decided to turn in again and
have a few hours' sleep in comfort as compensation
for the chequered night we had spent. We had to
pay dearly for our laziness, however, for when we
woke at about eleven o'clock the motion of the boat
was so violent that cooking was almost an impossi-
bility. The river was now bank-full, and a strong
flood tide meeting the wind had knocked up a
nasty hollow sea. Surely boat never performed
such wild antics as did the little Snipe that morning.
At one moment she lay head on to the sea, pitching
bows under, and the next she was riding athwart
the tide rolling her decks in. With much difficulty
and delay we contrived to struggle into our clothes
and stow away the bedding, debating meanwhile
the possibility of preparing breakfast. Any ideas
of a square meal we may have possessed were
speedily abandoned as impracticable, and the most
we aspired to was a frugal repast of hard-boiled eggs
and coffee. Wedging ourselves between the bunks,
we performed the necessary culinary operations
on the floor, one holding the Primus stove, and
the other the kettle. It was tiring work, ^nd an
imminent risk of being scalded urged us to waste
jig tjmet The eggs we^e consequently boiled in

184 IN TIDAL WATERS

the water destined for the coffee-pot, a somewhat
unpleasant method of procedure, but under such
conditions one could not afford to be over-fastidious.

Having for the time being stayed the pangs of
hunger, we went out into the well to see how matters
fared with the other boats. It was about high
water, and the banks of the river no longer affording
any protection, the yachts felt the full force of the
gale. One little craft had just broken adrift from
her moorings, and was careering down wind under
bare poles. The owners of a cutter moored close
by had succumbed to mal de mer, and, throwing
dignity to the winds, leant over the side in a posture
that admitted of no disguise. The sight of their
physical distress proved the undoing of my com-
panion, who had had no previous experience of
small yachts, and he speedily " laid all before
him," as Kipling hath it. Being now without a
dinghy, I had no means of taking him ashore,
although for that matter I doubt if any small
Berthon boat such as mine could have lived in the
sea that was running. Then the tide began to ebb,
and the additional strain thrown upon the vessels'
moorings proved too much for many of them.
Looking round, I counted no less than nine yachts
dragging their ground tackle at one and the same
time. Three of these, moreover, were driving
down on to the Snipe. The position had now
become untenable, and we must clear out at once
if we would avert disaster.

Crawling forward with the small jib, I hauled it
out along the bowsprit, and bent on sheets and

EASTER YACHTING 185

halyard. Then, slipping the mooring, I set the
sail sheeted to windward. The yacht turned upon
her heel, and a moment later we were speeding
down the river, pursued by the howling gale. We
were none too soon, for, had our departure been
delayed but by a few minutes, the dragging vessels
must have driven foul of us. The ebb was now
running hard, and although the Snipe showed but
the veriest rag of sail to the wild wind, she travelled
fast through the water. At Burnham the gale had
wrought havoc amongst the yachts, and as we ran
through the anchorage we noticed several craft
with broken bowsprits, whilst the chafed topsides
of others gave evidence of recent collision. Whilst
running down the Crouch we had close -reefed and
prepared the mainsail for setting, as we should
require some after-canvas to work the boat into
the berth I had in view. As soon as we were clear
of the congested Burnham anchorage, I set the
sail, and the sloop, piling up a bow wave that rose
almost to the level of the deck, drove down the
tideway like a frighted hare. We were now
approaching our destination, and presently the
mouth of the River Roach opened out on our
starboard hand. As we hauled our wind round
Branklet Spit, the Snipe buried herself to the
coamings, but after a few wild lurches she leapt into
smooth water. Holding our luff, we shot up to
the weather bank of the Roach; the jib fluttered
down, and the anchor splashed over the side. *We
had found the snuggest of berths, for under the lee
pf the steep-to bank the water was as smooth as a

186 IN TIDAL WATERS

mill-pond. This, indeed, was the only comfortable
anchorage obtainable in the district, and a goodly
fleet of Burnham and Fambridge boats had already
there assembled. By nightfall nearly sixty yachts
and barges were brought up in close company
sheltering from the heavy weather. Here we
could at least cook and sleep in comfort, and for
three livelong days we had little else to do.

All Saturday and Sunday the storm raged with
undiminished fury, and when we turned out on
Monday morning there was no sign of any abate-
ment. But we had to get home, and must at
all hazards attempt to win back to Fambridge.
Whilst we were having breakfast we saw three
yachts get under way with close-reefed canvas, *but
one after the other, after making a board out into
the Crouch, turned tail and ran back. This was
not very encouraging, but we determined to make
an attempt to get home. Having packed the
crockery in the pantry with cotton-waste to obviate
the risk of breakage, and lashed up everything
likely to get adrift, we set our treble-reefed mainsail
and storm jib. Then, getting the anchor, we
reached out of the Roach. As we emerged from
the shelter of Branklet Spit, we encountered three
big hollow seas, which broke on board and, rushing
in a cascade over decks and cabin-top, flooded the
well. Hardening our hearts, we drove her at it,
and the good little ship, responding nobly to the
call, forged ahead through the smother of blinding
spray. Yard by yard she won her way up the
Burnham river, mid although we had not a dry

EASTER YACHTING 187

rag between us, we were supremely happy in the
exhilaration of the moment. It was grand sport
driving along with the lee decks buried beneath
the seething sea; and with a good tide under her
the Snipe made capital progress. As we drew near
to Burnham we began to regard our homecoming
almost in the light of an accomplished fact, and
our only anxiety was lest we should arrive at
Fambridge too late for a hot lunch ashore. But
fortune frowned upon us, and just as we were going
about at the end of a board, the jib sheet carried
away. The violent slatting of the sail stopped the
Snipe from coming round, and, missing stays, she
drove ashore. Having no dinghy, all we could do
was to drop the anchor and wait for water. Fortun-
ately, the tide was flowing fast, and in an hour's
time there was sufficient water round us to warrant
an attempt at getting under way again. Close into
the mud where we were there was very little tide,
and the Snipe lay wind-rode, so, setting our canvas,
we worked up to the anchor in short boards and
successfully sailed it out. We were now fairly
under way again, but had not proceeded a hundred
yards when one of the jib sheet fairleads drew out
of the deck. There was then no alternative but to
run back to the Roach to repair damages, so I bore
up and put the sloop before the wind.

It was well, perhaps, that our haven of refuge
was not very far distant, for, looking over my
shoulder, I noticed great clouds of Stygian blackness
rolling up astern. I have never seen the sky look
§o wicked, and it was with a feeling of relief that

188 IN TIDAL WATERS

we hauled our wind into the Roach. As we rounded
Branklet Spit we met the Fambridge cutter
Sunbeam storming out under a reefed trysail,
and hailed her to draw attention to the coming
squall, but she held on her way. Luffing up into
our old berth, we let go the anchor and hastily
stowed the sails. The owners of the Sunbeam
meantime had evidently thought better of it and
put back, but they had left it too late. The squall
broke just as they reached the entrance, and the
yacht was blown ashore on a mudflat. There she
lay with sails slatting in the wind and seas making
a clean breach over her, whilst her two owners
stood on the sloping deck grasping the mast to
maintain a precarious foothold. Then the blinding
hail and sleet blotted her out from view, and we
sought shelter in the cabin.

Never have I known such a squall. The wind
howled and shrieked like a myriad furies, and,
sheltered as she was, the Snipe trembled from stem
to stern. I read subsequently in the papers that
the wind attained a velocity of eighty miles an
hour, and can quite believe it. It lasted about a
quarter of an hour and then the sun came out. As
soon as the squall was over a boat manned by a
strong crew of 'blue -jackets put off from the Coast-
guard vessel, and after two hours' hard work,
succeeded in warping the Sunbeam into a place
of safety.

The gale seemed to have reached its climax in
that vicious squall, for the weather began to mend,
and although several more rain -squalls of less

EASTER YACHTING 189

severity passed over, the wind took off rapidly.
Late in the evening the whole fleet made a start
for home under shortened canvas, and we eventually
picked up our moorings in a flat calm somewhere
about midnight. Thus ended the worst Easter
holiday, as regards weather, that I have ever
experienced ; but there have been others when the
actual discomfort was more acute. One trip in
particular I am never likely to forget, for we were
lost in a dense fog for four days, and, running
short of provisions, had nothing to eat for thirty-
six hours— but that story has already been told in
a previous chapter.

CHAPTER XIX

CRUISING IN COMPANY

IT was with feelings of relief that I shipped my
sculls and grasped the rail of Snipe, for two men
of average weight and a fair-sized case of stores
is a big load for a 7-ft. Berthon dinghy, even in
smooth water. The little boat's freeboard had
been reduced almost to vanishing point, and I
verily believe that had either of us sneezed or
coughed we should have capsized. Although the
passage perilous had been won we were not by any
means out of the wood, as the heavy case had to be
got on board and it was something of a problem
how to do it. If either of us stepped out before
the other the tiny dinghy would probably sink,
either by the bow or stern as the case might be.

" Don't play the giddy ox, Max," I said to my
companion, who was shaking the boat with his
untimely laughter. " We don't want to do the
King John stunt and lose our baggage in the Wash.
We must get out together and, what is more, must
do it by numbers, as they say in the Army. When
I say c One ' stand up, and when I say ' Two ' step

gently on board. Now then : ' One ' * Two ' !

Good; she's shipped barely a bucketful."

190

CRUISING IN COMPANY 191

Belaying the painter so that the dinghy lay
conveniently alongside, I attached the main halyard
to the case and swung it out gently on to the Snipe's
cabin-top.

" I'll unpack out here and pass the things down
to you; that will save making a mess in the cabin."

Murmurs of delight rose through the hatchway
as I handed down sundry tins of curried fowl and
lobster, steak-and-kidney puddings, jars of potted
meat, jam, marmalade, and numerous other articles
such as sailing men take with them when they go
cruising.

We were bound away for a three weeks' cruise
on the East Coast in company with my brother's
4-ton cutter Walrus and a converted ship's lifeboat
known as Viper. Max's elder brother Hans had
signed on for the trip in Walrus, whilst Viper was
manned by the syndicate of youngsters who owned
her. Hans and Max, it is perhaps superfluous to
remark were Germans, but having passed the
greater part of their lives in England were German
in little more than name. They had at first
proposed coming with us in their own boat, but as
she was merely a small canoe-yawl built for sailing
on the Upper Thames, and quite unsuitable for
cruising in open water, we had persuaded them to
give up the idea and join us as crew.

These Germans were a strange pair. Ashore
they were the best of friends, but afloat lived a
regular cat-and-dog life. From the momenlf they
boarded their craft until they went ashore again it
was one long wrangle, and as my brother remarked,

192 IN TIDAL WATERS

if they were coming with us for three whole weeks
it was better for all of us that they should be
separated.

I still have a lively recollection of the first time
I ever saw Hans and Max. Lying in the Roach
one Saturday I heard a boat bring up close to me
late at night after I had turned in, but when I awoke
the next morning I had forgotten her existence.
Judge of my surprise, then, when I heard a
smothered yell of wrath close alongside, " What

have you done with that tomato ? " Looking

through one of the scuttles in my cabin-top, I saw
the " stern " of a somewhat corpulent man clad in
white flannel trousers protruding from under the
after-deck of a small canoe-yawl. He was evidently
engaged in groping about in the dark after some-
thing he had lost and of which he was in urgent
need. Seated on the fore-deck was a younger
man who was combing his moustache with the aid
of a hand mirror. Then, with violent contortions
of his well-nourished body, the man down aft began
to extricate himself and presently a bearded face,
red with rage and hard breathing, appeared above
the coaming. " What have you done with that -
tomato ?" he shouted again, evidently in a towering
temper. The answer was unsatisfactory, even flip-
pant, and there commenced an unseemly wrangle
about the elusive vegetable — or is it a fruit ?—
which was still raging when I got under way an hour
later.

It was the same thing every week-end. No
sooner did they get on board than they commenced

CRUISING IN COMPANY 193

to squabble and the quarrel went on intermittently
until Monday morning when they returned to town.
Yet when ashore they were the best of friends and
lived together in perfect peace. At times their
squabbles on the boat were particularly violent, and
I remember an occasion on which the younger
hurled a 3-lb. pot of jam at his brother's head.
The latter, by ducking, fortunately escaped this
somewhat unusual missile and the glass jar was
shivered on the floor-boards. The wrangle that
ensued about who should clean up the mess lasted
all day and far into the night.

Yes ; my brother was right. If they were coming
with us for three weeks it was certainly desirable
that they should be kept apart as much as possible.

We had decided to go to Lowestoft, and as none
of us had been farther north than the Aldeburgh
river we regarded the cruise in the light of an
adventure. For some weeks past we had been
studying charts and tide-tables, and now at last
the long-looked-for day of departure had arrived.
We only waited for daylight to set out in quest of
adventure, and it seemed absurd to go to bed just
for three or four hours. We therefore killed time
by visiting various yachts moored near by, and I
have no doubt made ourselves nuisances generally.

Half-past two in the morning may seem a strange
hour for breakfast, but when afloat one's internal
economy declines to be ruled by the clock. More-
over as one's meals when yachting are apt ft) be
movable feasts it is prudent to start with a full

stomach. Just as we were finishing our meal, I
o

194 IN TIDAL WATERS

heard the creaking of blocks and looking out saw
Viper's mainsail going up. Leaving Max to clear
away the breakfast things, I set about getting Snipe
under way, and presently the three boats were
dropping down the river in close company before
the lightest of westerly airs.

It was a perfect June morning, a light haze
giving promise of a hot day. As the sun rose above
the horizon and gathered strength, the mist cleared
off, but owing to the paltry nature of the breeze
our progress was slow. We were near the mouth
of the river when the ebb finished running and it
was all we could do to stem the young flood. We
struggled on, however, and made the Fishery
Beacon ere the complete failure of the wind com-
pelled us to anchor.

Brought up about half a mile away was a barge
yacht of some twelve tons, and as at that time such
vessels were something of a novelty we decided to
row over and look at her. Leaving Snipe at anchor
with her mainsail " scandalised," we got into our
cockle-shell of a dinghy and pushed off. The sea
was as smooth as a mill-pond and we soon drew
near to the yacht, and then, discovering that her
owner was a man I knew, we went on board. Our
visit was well timed, for a most appetising smell of
frizzling bacon greeted us, and a few minutes later
we were sitting down to an excellent breakfast in
a cabin that seemed positively palatial after that
of the Snipe.

It was the first time that I had been on board of
a barge yacht of any size, and the internal accom-

CRUISING IN COMPANY 195

modation astonished me. In addition to the large
saloon there were three sleeping cabins and a
roomy fo'c'stle. The saloon was more like a room
in a house than a yacht's cabin. In place of the
usual sofa bunks there were ordinary chairs, which
could be secured to the sides of the vessel when the
latter was under way. The barge was certainly
very comfortable, but I was, and for that matter
still am, rather sceptical as to the sea-going
qualities of a flat-bottomed craft in heavy weather.
We passed a couple of hours very pleasantly on
board this barge yacht and then a gentle breeze
filled in from the south-east. Seeing that Snipe
was beginning to sail about under her scandalised
mainsail and fret at her anchor we deemed it
prudent to hasten on board. Walrus and Viper
were already under way and in a few minutes we
were after them. Setting the spinnaker on the
bowsprit-end we wooed the gentle breeze with such
good effect that in half an hour we were at the head
of the fleet. We carried the breeze almost to
Clacton, but then it failed us again. This I fully
expected, as it seems to be my fate to be becalmed
off Clacton. Many and many a weary hour have
I spent lolloping about at anchor off that haunt of
the tripper, and the occasions upon which I have
carried a good breeze right through the Wallet
could be almost counted upon the fingers of one
hand.

As usual I had to anchor off the end of the* pier
and for more than three hours Snipe rolled about
under a sweltering sun. The turn of the tide and

196 IN TIDAL WATERS

a smart breeze came simultaneously, and getting
the anchor we made short miles to the Naze in
close company with Walrus and Viper. The last
mentioned then held on up the coast, her crew
having decided to go on to Lowestoft ; but Walrus
and ourselves put into Felixstowe Dock, as we
wanted to spend a day on the Orwell before going
farther north. As we had not been to bed the
previous night we turned in early and Max and
myself slept soundly for rather more than twelve
hours.

After a leisurely breakfast we got under way and
proceeded up the Orwell in company with Walrus.
It was another perfect summer's day, and the
river, bathed in sunshine, was seen at its best.
There is perhaps nothing particularly striking
about the lower reaches, and the superb scene that
meets one's gaze on rounding Collimer Point comes
as a surprise. From this point all the way to
Ipswich the scenery is magnificent, and one finds it
difficult to realise that one is in East Anglia and
not in the West of England. The sailing, it must
be admitted, is not of the best as there are too
many trees in the neighbourhood. Both banks
are densely wooded to the water's edge and the
breeze in consequence is apt to be rather fickle.
There are, moreover, plenty of mudflats to trap the
casual navigator who imprudently ventures within
the lines of buoys that mark the channel. But
provided that one is not pressed for time, nothing
could be more delightful than sailing on the upper
reaches of this delectable river. After passing the

CRUISING IN COMPANY 197

picturesque towers of Freston the channel becomes
rather narrow, but is well buoyed right up to
Ipswich. The yacht anchorage is below the docks
and it is the custom of the port to moor fore and
aft.

After spending a couple of hours ashore we re-
turned on board and dropped down the river to
Felixstowe ; but as it was our intention to sail at
midnight for Lowestoft we did not think it worth
while to enter the dock. We brought up to the
southward of the dock pier, a quite comfortable
berth in fine weather, and after dining on Walrus
returned to the Snipe to snatch a few hours' sleep
before starting on our journey.

CHAPTER XX

LOWESTOFT

AWAKENED at 11 p.m. by the alarm clock, we
turned out to find a clear starlit night with a light
breeze from S.S.E. There is an element of risk
about sailing at night in a small yacht, as the lights
one carries, even if of regulation size, are so close to
the water that they are not readily seen from the
deck of a large ship ; but in those days to be under
way in the dark was a novel experience, and it was
with feelings of pleasurable excitement that I got
out and trimmed the sidelights.

Snipe, as she lay at anchor, pitched gently to
the swell that rolled in from the sea, whilst the
riding lights of craft in the Stour blinked cheerfully
across the waters of the harbour. Altogether it
was a jolly night for making a passage ; and leaving
Max to brew a big jug of coffee, I began to make
preparations for getting under way.

" Coffee's ready," shouted Max from the cabin,
and in obedience to his summons I knocked off
work and went below. Our meal of cakes and
coffee was soon over and then we tidied up the
cabin, stowing things so that they would not be
likely to get adrift when we were at sea ; and then

198

LOWESTOFT 199

set about getting the dinghy on board. The little
Berthon, when folded, stowed nicely on the star-
board bunk and was lashed securely to the cot
frame. We were thus freed from the incubus of a
dinghy towing astern, which always reduces the
speed of a small yacht and in heavy weather may
even be a menace to her safety. Finally, we pinned
the chart down to the cabin table, and turning down
the gimballed lamp left the cabin.

Walrus was already getting under way and so
we lost no time in setting the mainsail. Then,
while Max stowed away the riding light, I lit and
shipped the sidelights. These little sidelights,
being fitted with paraffin burners, gave no trouble,
but the binnacle lamp defied all our efforts to keep
it alight. After wasting the best part of half -an -
hour over it, I removed the lamp altogether and
substituted a short candle, which served the purpose
admirably. Walrus, in the meantime, had started
and was out of sight by the time we had got our
anchor.

A couple of boards took us clear of the harbour,
and when round Landguard Point we had a fair
wind although it was very light. It was certainly
very pleasant sitting in the well smoking our pipes,
but we found it difficult to keep awake. Several
times I caught myself nodding at the helm, and
presently Max was snoring. Off Bawdsey Haven
the wind deserted us altogether, but we continued
to drift up the coast on the ebb tide. Soon there
was a faint glimmer of dawn in the eastern sky and

200 IN TIDAL WATERS

it gradually grew lighter. I then made a discovery
that caused me much amusement. The candle in
the binnacle, which I had renewed several times,
burnt bravely, but it never occurred to me that the
grease might make a mess in the boat. Nor did it,
as a matter of fact, for it had been dripping steadily
on Max's feet, which he had stretched out in front
of him. Always particular as to his appearance, he
was wearing brown boots that he had spent much
time in polishing, and there, nicely balanced on top
of one of them, was a pyramid of solidified candle
grease. I could not refrain from waking him up to
look at it, but I regret to say that he failed to grasp
the humour of the situation.

The crux of the trip up to Lowestoft is Orford
Ness. If one fails to save the ebb round that
formidable point it is probable that a small yacht
will get no further until the next ebb commences,
for the tide runs like a mill-race round the Ness.
Although we had, as we thought, allowed ourselves
ample time, we had been so much delayed by lack
of wind that it was now very doubtful if we should
succeed in saving our tide. We therefore got out
the sweep and took it in turns to row. Walrus was
also busy with the " wooden topsail," and although
all laboured incessantly, we just failed in our
purpose.

As we were debating whether we should anchor
and wait for the next tide or turn back, a nice little
breeze from the southward came to encourage us.
Watching carefully some marks ashore we found

LOWESTOFT 201

that we were holding our own against the flood, and
no more ; but we knew that if we could only win
round the Ness we should find comparatively slack
water in the bay. So we hardened our hearts and
prepared for a struggle.

It is bold water round Orford Ness, and both
yachts crept inshore to cheat the flood as much as
possible. A few yards from the shingle beach the
water is fathoms deep, and we went in so close that
the crew of Walrus actually attempted to pole her
along the beach with a boat-hook. But the shingle
was so loose that the boat-hook merely sank in
without imparting motion to the boat. By hard
rowing, however, we contrived to make slow pro-
gress ; and at length, after an hour's desperate work,
managed to squirm round the Ness.

No sooner were we round the point and in slack
water than a fine sailing breeze filled in, and we
began to reel off the miles at a 'merry gait. The
fresh breeze soon knocked up a rough sea, but it
was grand sailing nevertheless. The little Snipe
fairly revelled in the conditions and passing Walrus
went right away from her. Off South wold the
breeze freshened still more, and Snipe, with her lee
decks buried, sloshed through the rough water in
grand style, covering the eleven miles to Lowestoft
in just over an hour and a half, a creditable
performance for an 18-ft. boat.

As I had never been to Lowestoft before I was
anxious to be ready for any emergency that might
arise, and off the harbour hove the yacht to. We

202 IN TIDAL WATERS

then got the anchor over the bow and overhauled
the cable ready for running. I also coiled down
warps on the fore and after decks, cleared the sweep
ready for use, hung fend-offs over the side, and finally
launched the dinghy. Whilst thus engaged Walrus
came up, and so we entered the harbour practically
together. I took the precaution to gybe before
negotiating the entrance, but my brother, neg-
lecting to do so, experienced a somewhat lively five
minutes.

As luck would have it a crowd of smacks were
coming out as we entered, and there was a regular
jamb up between the pier-heads. An eddy of wind
caught Walrus's mainsail aback, causing her to
gybe all standing. " Ware gybe," shouted my
brother as the boom swung over, but the warning
came too late and we heard a loud splash. Looking
back I saw Hans struggling in the water. A cry
of alarm rose from the crowd, which, however, soon
gave place to a ripple of laughter when Hans was
seen to grasp the stern of the dinghy. It was
certainly rather amusing to see the unfortunate
Hans, with water running off his beard and his face
distorted with rage, towing in the wake of Walrus
and calling my brother all the names he could
think of both in English and German. But my
brother was far too busy to attend to him, and Hans
had to hang on as best he could until Walrus was
in the yacht basin.

We were lucky enough to find vacant berths
alongside Viper, whose crew put off in their dinghy

LOWESTOFT 203

and helped us to moor. Then we retired to the
cabin to pour out a libation to the gods, which on
this occasion took the form of bottled ale, and then
learnt that Viper had also distinguished herself
when entering the harbour.

Her crew, like ourselves, had never visited the
port before, but with the confidence of youth had
come roaring into the yacht basin with every
stitch of canvas set, including a topsail, with a fresh
wind on the beam. When they entered the basin
they discovered to their dismay that they had
sailed into a regular cul-de-sac, and there was
insufficient room to bring the yacht to the wind.
Ahead of them was the dock wall, which appeared
so close that they instinctively put the helm hard
down and charged into the tier of yachts. They
were fortunate to escape serious damage, but struck
a steam yacht a sidelong blow, leaving a long
streak of black paint upon the latter 's white topside.
As Viper had to lie alongside her victim all the
time she was at Lowestoft, it will be readily imagined
that her relations with her neighbour were not of
a very cordial nature.

Our first impressions of Lowestoft Harbour were
altogether delightful. It was certainly very jolly
lying in the yacht basin with a fine band playing
on the pier above, but the keen interest taken by
the crowd in our cooking and other domestic
operations was positively embarrassing, and before
long we were compelled to rig our well-ltent to
obtain a little privacy. I think Max was the magnet

204 IN TIDAL WATERS

that drew the girls on the pier. Always particular
as to his appearance, his toilet now that we were in
port became quite a work of art. Having completed
in the cabin the foundations of the sartorial edifice
that was to delight the hearts of the maidens of
Lowestoft, he would appear in the well and proceed
to spread out on the deck an array of toilet re-
quisites more suitable for a musical comedy artiste
than a yachtsman. For a full hour each morning
he wore on his face a moustache trainer, what time
he sprayed his hair, brushed his teeth, polished his
boots, etc. He was horribly in my way when I
wanted to cook breakfast, and as a rule half the
morning was cut to waste by his tomfoolery.
However, I had my revenge a few days later, when
we were lying on Oulton Broad.

On that particular morning we had arranged with
Walrus and Viper to have a sail on the Broads, and
as I saw the others getting under way whilst Max
was still engaged upon his everlasting toilet, I left
him to it and commenced to get Snipe under way.
Being in a hurry, and not in the best of tempers,
I let the chain run down the hawse-pipe without
taking any steps to clean it first. Now, the bottom
of Oulton Broad is composed of black mud of the
most tenacious and objectionable description, and
a considerable quantity of it was transferred to the
interior of the boat with the chain. Whilst thus
occupied I heard cries of anger and dismay coming
from the cabin, and on going below found that Max
had left his big portmanteau lying open on the

LOWESTOFT 205

fo'c'stle floor, and the chain, covered with slimy
black mud of the consistency of condensed milk,
had settled in a heap upon certain highly prized
shirts of subtle hue. Hinc illce lacrimce! For
the remainder of the day Max's temper bordered
upon the peevish.

It was during our stay at Lowestoft that we
acquired the homing lobster. When we first made
his acquaintance he was sunning himself on a
marble slab in the window of a fishmonger's shop,
and as we wanted something for lunch I asked the
price. He was a fine big chap and seemed a
bargain at eighteenpence, but in the light of after
experience I am inclined to think that the fish-
monger had a very good reason for disposing of
him so cheaply.

Now, it happened that when we returned on
board we were hailed by the crew of Viper, who
asked us to lunch with them, an invitation we
promptly accepted. Max, who was carrying the
lobster, stuffed it away in a locker, where it was
destined to remain for some time, for, going for a
steamboat trip the next day, we forgot all about
it. Our crustacean friend, however, seemed to
resent our neglect and did not fail to apprise us of
the fact. At first it was a subtle suggestion rather
than a smell, and although our breakfast was punc-
tuated by occasional whiffs not altogether pleasant,
they were not sufficiently marked in character to
indicate their source. I accused Max of 4iaving
spilt some of his hair-wash, but he repudiated the

206 IN TIDAL WATERS

suggestion with such heat that I deemed it advisable
to drop the subject.

As I had some Press work to do and Max wanted
to write some letters we decided to spend the morn-
ing on board, and as the sun rose higher in the
heavens the heat in the little cabin became almost
tropical. Before the morning had advanced very
far that which had been but a subtle suggestion
had attained the dignity of a smell that fairly shouted
at us, and it was obvious that the cause must be
investigated without further delay. We therefore
commenced a systematic search, and in course of
time I happened to open the door of the sail locker.
Our hunt was over. Max said that he saw a blue
haze come from the locker when I opened the door,
but that, I think, was a stretch of the imagination.
Anyhow, I thought it prudent to hold my nose
with one hand whilst consigning the offending
lobster to the deep with the other. Thinking that
it would sink, I merely dropped it over the side,
but to my annoyance the lobster floated; so I
fished it out again and threw it some distance away.
In half-an-hour it was back alongside again. Once
more I fished the beastly thing out and threw it
as far as I could and well clear of the tier of yachts.
We went ashore in the afternoon and did not
return on board until dinner-time, when, to our
disgust, we found that loathsome lobster waiting
for us alongside Snipe. To be thus persecuted by
an eighteenpenny lobster in a delicate state of
health was intolerable, so taking it into the dinghy

LOWESTOFT 207

I rowed out of the yacht basin and dumped it over-
board in the outer harbour.

One grows accustomed to certain familiar noises
in a yacht, such as the ripple of the tide against her
bow, the creaking of spars, or the grinding of the
cable on the bottom; but any strange sound,
however slight, immediately attracts one's atten-
tion. And it must be remembered that the hull
of a vessel acts as a sounding-board and noises
are enormously magnified. It is perhaps therefore
not altogether surprising that I should have been
awakened the following morning by a gentle tapping
against the yacht's side. For a time I lay in my
bunk wondering what the strange noise might be.
The boat was rolling to a slight ground swell
coming in from the sea, and every few seconds
I heard a faint tap against her planking close
to my ear. At last I turned out to investigate,
and there, bobbing about in a manner that
was positively frolicsome, was our old friend the
lobster.

I suppose there must have been some curious
set of the tide, but it was quite uncanny the way in
which it kept coming back to us with the unerring
instinct of a homing pigeon. As we were starting
for home after breakfast we allowed our persecutor
to remain there, for, as Max remarked, it was the
last time he would have the pleasure of our company
unless prepared to swim all the way to Brightlingsea,
our next port of call.

We had been at Lowestoft for more than a week,

208 IN TIDAL WATERS

and felt that it was time to be getting back to
our home waters. Although Lowestoft is a very
pleasant place at which to spend a holiday, the
yachtsman who puts in there as a rule stays in
port until he leaves for good, as there is not much
inducement to put to sea just for a short sail.
Moored fore and aft in a tier, one has to deal with
the warps of other vessels in addition to one's
own ; and should the neighbouring craft have been
left unattended, as is often the case, one has to
thrust each warp in turn below the yacht's keel in
order to get out of the tier. Still, if one wants to
loaf for a few days Lowestoft is just the place, as
there is always plenty to do and see there. The
never-ending procession of smacks coming in and
going out is always interesting to the sailing
man, and for a change the Broads are close at
hand. Nevertheless, we were getting a little tired
of being penned up in port, and were, perhaps,
not altogether sorry that the time had come to
leave.

It was eight o'clock ere we had washed up the
breakfast things and stowed the dinghy in the
cabin, and a full half-hour was cut to waste in
getting out of the harbour. There was not suffi-
cient wind to swear by, as the saying goes, and a
slight haze over the sea gave promise of another
hot day. But travelling south is a much easier
proposition on this coast than going north, as one
carries the flood tide with one. It is possible for
a smart boat to carry ten hours' flood and make

LOWESTOFT 209

Burnham on the tide, and although that would of
course be an exceptional passage one can usually
count on at least eight hours' fair tide on this
particular trip. The tide was just on the turn
when we cleared the harbour, and although we
had to row Snipe most of the way to Southwold
ere a light easterly breeze filled in, we carried
the flood for rather more than eight hours and
were well round Orford Ness by high water.
The wind, however, subsequently fell very light,
and our progress against the first of the ebb
was rather slow. More than once a complete
failure of the breeze compelled us to anchor,
and it was not until two o'clock the following
morning that we felt our way into Brightlingsea
in the dark.

With smacks and other craft brought up hap-
hazard all over the place, Brightlingsea Creek is at
the best an uncomfortable anchorage, and we should
have done better had we sought a berth in the
Pyefleet on the other side of the Colne. But we
had run out of bread, and with a view to visiting
the baker before breakfast we had decided to go
into the Creek. We brought up in what seemed a
clear berth, near some smacks, so far as we could
judge in the uncertain light, and having been
eighteen hours at sea did not waste much time
turning in.

I was aroused next morning — or rather the same
morning— by a peculiar sensation of motion. ' As
I lay in my bunk half awake, I could hear men's

210 IN TIDAL WATERS

voices, and the sound of heavy boots tramping on
the deck of some craft near by. And all the time
there was a gentle lapping of water against Snipe's
bow as if she were under way. In a few moments
I was wide awake, and throwing off my blankets
went out into the well. To my astonishment we
were out in the Colne and apparently in tow of
a smack.

" Where are you taking us ? " I shouted.

A man who was coiling down halyards on the
fore-deck of the smack looked up and then ran to
the side to look over the bow.

" Lord lummy, Bill," he exclaimed to his mate,
" if we ain't got the little bwot's anchor."

And sure enough they had. When they had hove
up their anchor to the stem-head with the windlass
they had evidently brought up ours with it, and all
unconscious were towing us out to sea. It was
the work of a moment to clear our anchor and drop
it, and there we were, brought up in the middle of
the Colne the best part of a mile from the hard.
To make matters worse what wind there was and
also the tide were foul. We tossed up to decide
who should row ashore for the bread, and fortune
smiling upon me — for once in a way — I went
back to bed, whilst Max started on his long
row in quest of the bread that was required for
breakfast.

The last few days were spent in cruising about
the Blackwater, old familiar waters of which I
never grow weary, and it was with feelings of

LOWESTOFT 211

regret that we picked up our moorings at Fambridge
and stowed the sails for the last time. Throughout
the cruise the weather had been well-nigh perfect,
and Snipe fully answered my expectations as a
cruiser.

CHAPTE R XXI

A NIGHT AT SEA

THE clock struck ten as I warped the Seabird
from her berth in Felixstowe Dock one night in
June, bound on a single-handed trip to Lowestoft.
Within the confines of the basin the yacht lay
motionless on the face of the Stygian waters, but
an expedition to the end of the pier, made a few
minutes before, had convinced me that I should find
all the wind F wanted when once at sea. Although
there was no moon to light me on my way, the
heavens were hung with stars, and everything
pointed to fair weather and a smart passage.

The handling of a seven-ton cutter does not, under
ordinary circumstances, unduly tax the strength of
a man of average physique, but there are times
when it is apt to prove uncommonly hard work,
a fact that I was destined to discover by bitter
experience. The entrance to the dock lies between
a pier, on the one hand, and a mudflat, on the
other, the tide setting athwart the fairway. Notic-
ing that vessels anchored in Harwich Harbour were
still swung up on the flood, I hugged the pier in
order to prevent the cutter being swept on to the
flat. To my dismay, I discovered that the tide,
although flooding out in the harbour, was ebbing

212

A NIGHT AT SEA 213

hard in shore, and in a few minutes the Seabird
lay pinned against the pier. The next half -hour
was perhaps the most strenuous I have ever spent.
By pushing with all my weight and strength, I
could just manage to shove the boat clear of one
pile on to the next. And thus I proceeded down
the whole length of the pier, bumping from pile to
pile to the detriment of the vessel's paint. But it
was wicked work. My hands were cut and bleeding
from contact with barnacles innumerable, and my
nails ditched with slimy weed ; but at last I shoved
the cutter clear, and, slithering round the pierhead,
she was free. Fortunately, the damage sustained
was not of much moment. The paint on the port
side rather badly scratched, the head of the boat-
hook lost in a rotten pile, and a little sacrifice of
self-respect on the part of the owner, was the sum
total, and the experience gained was not, perhaps,
dear at the price.

The wind came strong and true out of the south-
east, and I had to make a tack or two ere I could
fetch out of Harwich Harbour. Heeled to her
covering board, the Seabird sped through the
troubled waters of the Rolling Ground, throwing
spray aft from her weather bow with a freedom
that called for the use of oilskins and sou'-wester,
but it was certainly most exhilarating. The stars
shone brightly overhead, and lighthouses ashore
cast their rays across the face of the waters. Aided
by a snoring ebb, the cutter leapt the seas liKe a
thing of life, leaving in her wake a trail of sizzling

214 IN TIDAL WATERS

foam. When clear of Landguard Point I lay a
course N.E. for Orford Ness, for at that state of
the tide there was plenty of water everywhere.
With sheets checked and the wind on the beam,
the cutter was soon tramping along at top speed,
and as steady on her helm as a church. Then I
lashed the tiller, and, having taken a good look
round, left her to sail herself whilst I went below
for supper. The Seabird had a remarkable faculty
for steering herself, and, when reaching in a steady
breeze, could be left unattended for quite long
periods, a trait that often stood me in good stead
when cruising single-handed. It would perhaps
appear to be a rather dangerous proceeding to lash
the tiller and go below, but the risk was more
apparent than real. The side-lights were burning
brightly, and, being on the starboard tack, the
cutter held the right of way. Had she departed
to any great extent from her course, the tell-tale
compass suspended from the cabin roof would have
apprised me of the fact, and, with the weather set
fair, the possibility of a bad squall was remote.

It is only when at sea at night that one fully
appreciates the comfort of the cabin of even a
small yacht. Although but 9 ft. long by 7 ft. 6 in.
wide, the saloon of the Seabird looked wonderfully
snug and homely as I entered, lit up as it was by
the red-shaded hanging lamp. The cushioned
bunks were wide and comfortable, and the floor
was covered with a soft fur rug. The bulkheads
and coamings were decorated with pictures and

A NIGHT AT SEA 215

photographs, whilst curtains of wine-coloured silk
imparted an air of luxury. Having lit a pipe and
bound up a cut finger, I gave ear to the calls of
hunger, and retired to the galley in the fo'c'stle.
Presently there arose an appetising smell of cooking,
and a quarter of an hour later I sat in a corner of
the cabin busily engaged with a basin of soup. By
the time I had cleared away the debris of my supper
it was after midnight and I went out into the well
to look round.

The breeze still held steady and true, and, as far
as I could make out, the Seabird was close to Orford
Haven. She was sailing her course with a fidelity
almost human, and speeding along as steadily as
a train. I freshened the nip of the dinghy painter,
and then crept forward to examine the side-lights.
Both were burning brightly, the rays of the port
light casting a ruddy streak across the black water
to leeward with an effect that verged upon the
sanguinary. It was a glorious night for making
a passage, but the air rather chilly, and, as there
was nothing requiring attention, I once more sought
the genial warmth of the cabin. Popping my head
out every now and then to see that all was well,
and occasionally glancing at the tell-tale compass,
I remained below for an hour or more, passing the
time pleasantly enough with a pipe and a magazine.
Sprawling on the lee bunk, it was indescribably
jolly. The cutter certainly rolled a good deal, but
the steady motion caused no inconvenience?, and
the muffled roar of the bow wave supplied the bass

216 IN TIDAL WATERS

to the song of the wind in the rigging. The con-
ditions were not, however, conducive to wakefulness,
and presently I fell into a doze.

I was awakened by the sound of slatting sails
and the dinghy bumping alongside. Hurrying out
into the well, I found the Seabird lying head to
wind with her headsails aback and the boom
swinging wildly from side to side. The dinghy lay
under the yacht's quarter, bumping heavily, but
had apparently escaped injury. Having let the
headsails draw, I made a short board on the port
tack to get way on the boat, and then put her on to
her course again. I now had time to look about
me and take stock of my surroundings. Close at
hand, on the port bow, was Orford Ness Lighthouse,
sending forth its bright rays as a warning to ships
that pass in the night, and far away to starboard
was the Shipwash Lightship. To the eastward
the blackness of the night seemed to be already
yielding to the coming dawn, for the sky on the
horizon had assumed a hue of dark, steely blue. It
is bold water round the Ness, and one may sail a
small yacht within a few feet of the beach, but the
tide runs round the point like a mill-race, and this
is the crux of the trip from Harwich to Lowestoft.
Should a small craft fail to carry the ebb round the
Ness, she will need a fresh fair breeze to stem the
flood, and many a time I have sailed thus far, only
to return to my previous anchorage in the Stour,
But on this occasion the Seabird had saved her tide
with an hour or more to spare, and the lighthouse

A NIGHT AT SEA 217

was soon left astern. Altering the course to follow
the trend of the coastline, wind and sea were brought
on the quarter, and I could no longer leave the
cutter to sail herself with safety. But before
settling down at the tiller, I stowed the working
foresail and hoisted a big balloon sail that pulled
her through the water at a fine gait.

Those whose lives are passed 'midst the bricks
and mortar of a great city know not the glories of
a summer sunrise, which, when seen at sea, almost
beggars description. And I saw it that morning
in Sole Bay at its best. The steely tinge of the
eastern sky slowly ascended, until the heavens
were filled with a soft but sombre tint of blue.
Gradually the stars gave way before the coming
dawn, and small, irregular patches of cloud could
be dimly discovered in the half light. Presently
these clouds were painted with soft opalescent
colours, whilst the horizon was bedecked with a
rosy red that quickly changed to the colour of fire.
Then the great sun rolled up out of the gorgeous
east, and another day was born. The Seabird
sailed, upon a sea of shimmering gold, in which I
felt an irresistible impulse to bathe. So, bringing
the cutter to the wind, I hove her to, and then,
grasping the end of the mainsheet, dived into
the limpid depths. But the temperature of the
water belied its appearance, and I was glad to
scramble out and restore the circulation with a
brisk towelling. *

My early morning bathe, however, served to

218 IN TIDAL WATERS

sharpen an already keen appetite, and although
4 a.m. may seem a somewhat unconventional hour
for the meal, I decided to have breakfast. With
wind and sea on the quarter, I could not leave the
helm for more than a few minutes at a time, but,
by dividing my attention betwixt the tiller and the
galley, I contrived to prepare a good meal, com-
prising bacon, eggs, and coffee. These I spread
out on the well seat, and took my early breakfast
al fresco.

The yacht was then passing Dunwich, and as I
hugged the shore to cheat the flood which had
commenced to make, I had a good view of all that
remains of that once great Suffolk city. Dunwich,
in its days of prosperity, we are told, boasted of
fifty-two churches, a king's court, a bishop's
palace, and an important harbour, but these now
lie buried deep beneath the waters of the North Sea.
All that remains of the former capital of East
Anglia is a ruined church and a few picturesque
fishermen's cottages which nestle 'neath the cliff.
The church, the last of the fifty-two, stands on the
very brink of the precipice, and any day may topple
over into the maw of the voracious sea. A portion
of the burial-ground has already fallen, and at low
water you shall see the bones of bygone generations
of Dunwichites bleaching on the strand.

Steadily the cutter ploughed her way through
the seas, carrying me every moment nearer to my
destination. On past Southwold, with its high
lighthouse and recently constructed harbour, and

A NIGHT AT SEA 219

then she entered the narrow Covehithe Channel, the
last stage of the journey.

I passed Kessingland quite close, for the shore is
there steep-to, and the pretty little village looked
very bright and picturesque in the light of the
morning sun. Pakefield, with its crumbling cliffs,
was soon left astern, and Lowestoft lay near at
hand.

Lowestoft is an awkward port to enter when
single-handed, as, owing to the tide setting strongly
across the entrance, it is usually necessary to carry
one's canvas until within the pier-heads. Inside
there is little room to manoeuvre, as the outer
harbour is, as a rule, crowded with trawlers. It
was particularly awkward on this occasion, as I
had to gybe as I entered, and then lower away the
sails to check the boat's way. As luck would have
it, I met a cluster of smacks just inside, and could
not leave the tiller till clear of them. I dashed
forward and stowed the mainsail as best I could,
then the foresail fluttered down, and finally the jib.

But I was already in the yacht basin, and with a
good deal more way on than I cared about. I ran
forward to let go the anchor, but a link of the chain
jambed in the hawse-pipe. In a few seconds I
should crash into the dock-wall and lose my bow-
sprit. But fortune smiled upon me, and a man
suddenly appeared on the scene in a dinghy.
Thinking, in this instance, discretion better than
valour, I hove him a line, with instructions to
make fast to a dolphin near by. Luckily, the man

220 IN TIDAL WATERS

was smart, and I was enabled to pull up the Seabird
in the nick of time, her bowsprit-end being within
a foot of the dock-wall. To warp her into the tier,
and moor " all fours," was then a simple matter,
and in half-an-hour I was sitting down to a second
breakfast, which I considered well earned after
spending a night at sea.

CHAPTER XXII

BREAKERS AHEAD

" TURN out, Billy, it's past eight, and we've got
to get back to Fambridge, you know."

" Turn out be bio wed ! " was the curt but
forcible answer of my companion as he snuggled
lower into his blankets to evade the drops of drip-
ping moisture that had condensed upon the deck
beams.

The prospect certainly was not alluring. The
windows in the bulkhead were frosted over, and,
although covered by five or six blankets, I felt
chilled to the bone. The fire having been raked out
over night, the temperature of the cabin had fallen
so low that one's breath was plainly visible as it
rose in little clouds to the roof. But if it were
chilly within it must be worse without, and, loth
to leave my comparatively warm bunk, I lay
awhile ruminating.

It was Christmas-time, and we had come away
for a couple of days' cruising in my seven-ton
cutter Seabird. Wild-fowling had been our osten-
sible objective, but that was merely a blind to
satisfy the curiosity of our friends, who would have
regarded a yachting trip at such a season* as little
short of lunacy. We certainly had guns on board,

221

222 IN TIDAL WATERS

but given good sailing weather the birds might for
us rest easy. Christmas Day had been delightfully
fine and mild, but the breeze so fickle that the
shades of night had fallen ere we anchored off the
picturesque little village of West Mersea. During
the evening, which had been spent in preparing and
eating a Christmas dinner of gargantuan pro-
portions, the wind suddenly chopped round to the
eastward, and the weather had turned bitterly cold.
Our feasting had been prolonged to a late hour,
and succumbing to the lethargy which followed,
we had, as I now remembered with dismay, deferred
washing-up operations to the morrow.

Seabird was a sharp-sterned converted ship's boat,
28 ft. long by 8 ft. beam, and, unlike most craft
of that type, sailed really well to windward. This
was due to the addition of a fin-keel of iron which
increased her natural draught to about 5 ft. With
her bold freeboard and sails of ruddy brown she
was not particularly " yachty " in appearance, but
she could take care of herself in a breeze, a quality
which had often stood me in good stead. A large
deep well rendered her particularly suitable for
winter work, and it would be difficult to imagine
anything more snug and homely than the little
cabin when the fire burnt brightly in the " bogey "
stove.

Mersea Quarters, when the wind blows from the
east, is a somewhat exposed anchorage for small
craft, and the Seabird riding athwart the tide was
rolling abominably. The breeze sighed in the rig-

BREAKERS AHEAD 223

ging and the halyards played a devil's tattoo on
the mast. To this was added the incessant din
caused by a saucepan adrift in the fo'c'stle, which
threatened to become intolerable. This last at
length drove me from my bed, and having restored
the dancing utensil to its allotted place in the rack,
I decided to get up. My toilet occupied but little
time, for being old hands at the game we had turned
in " all standing " save for our boots, and in a few
minutes I had dressed and stowed away my blan-
kets. Billy had gone to sleep again, and knowing
from past experience that nothing short of a fire
and breakfast would lure him from his bunk, I
turned my attention to the domestic department.
Cutting up a block of peat with the bread knife, I
filled the stove, and with the aid of some paraffin
soon had a fire. Then, having put the kettle on
to boil, I went into the well.

It was truly an arctic scene that met my gaze,
for the rigging and spars were covered with a thick
coating of hoar-frost. The decks were one sheet
of ice, whilst long icicles hung at frequent intervals
from the boom. The Seabird looked for all the
world like a sugar ship upon a Christmas-tree.
There was a fresh easterly breeze and wildfowl
innumerable hovered over the adjacent creeks and
islets, filling the air with plaintive call. On the well
floor was a pile of dirty plates and dishes, relics of
last night's dinner. There are few more depressing
sights than the debris of a feast, and with af feeling
of disgust I hove overboard the carcase of what

224 IN TIDAL WATERS

had once been a prime Surrey fowl. On returning
to the cabin I found my companion in the throes
of dressing, or, in other words, hauling on his sea-
boots.

Turning to with a will we soon had matters
shipshape, and in half-an-hour were sitting down
to breakfast. With nicely browned sausages, hot
coffee, and the fire burning brightly in the " bogey,"
matters assumed a more cheerful aspect, but the
comfort of the cabin only enhanced by contrast
the miserable conditions without, and we looked
forward to our thirty-mile passage to Fambridge
with unenviable feelings.

"Do you think it's good enough, skipper?'1
inquired Billy after a long pause as we sat smoking
a post-prandial pipe.

" Candidly, matey, I don't think it is," I replied,
" but we are going nevertheless. This outlandish
place is ten miles from a railway station, and if
I left the boat here goodness only knows when I
should get her home again. We've got to go, so as
soon as you are ready we will get under way."

An easterly breeze knocks up a nasty hollow sea
in these waters, and in anticipation of a " dusting "
we carefully secured everything in the cabin that
might get adrift, and having, much to our regret,
put out the fire, we prepared ourselves for the deck.
With oilskins over our monkey jackets, we hoped
to keep fairly warm, and, hardening our hearts,
went out into the bitter cold.

" There seems a good deal of weight in the wind,

BREAKERS AHEAD 225

Billy; what do you think about reefing?" I
hazarded, after a look round.

" Oh ! let's drive her. This is going to be no picnic,
and the sooner we're through with it the better."

"Right you are," I assented; "we'll make the
old girl put her best foot foremost."

With the wind blowing against the tide it was
necessary to get the anchor ere we could make sail,
so having prepared the canvas for setting, we went
forward to " fist " the chain. The warmth of the
cabin had thawed the ice on the waterways, but
that on the fore -deck still remained. What with
the rolling of the boat and the slippery deck it was
all we could do to maintain a precarious foothold,
and when we put our weight upon the chain our
feet slipped from under us, and we both sat down
suddenly upon the deck. This happened more than
once, and it seemed as if the Seabird were fated
to remain where she was, when I remembered the
ashes in the grate. The contents of the ashpan
freely sprinkled on the deck solved the problem,
for having now a sure foothold we soon broke out
the anchor. But handling the mud-becoated chain
was wicked work on such a morning, and long ere
the anchor was sighted our hands had lost all
sense of feeling. Setting the mainsail was another
heart-breaking job, for the halyards were frozen
hard as iron and frequently slipped through one's
grasp. But at last the sail was set, and, leaving
my companion to hoist the headsails and coil 'down,
I went aft to the tiller,
Q

226 IN TIDAL WATERS

Working down the Quarters in short boards it
was obvious that the cutter had as much canvas
set as she could comfortably carry, and I already
began to regret that we had not reefed the main-
sail before starting, but she was sailing like a witch,
and I determined to carry on as long as we dared.
By the time Billy had finished his labours on deck
the Seabird was near the Nass Beacon, and cross-
ing the tail of the Spit we said farewell to Mersea.

The estuary of the Blackwater is a noble expanse
of water and as fine a cruising ground as the small
boat sailor could wish for, but a fresh easterly
breeze meeting the ebb soon knocks up a sea that is
very trying to little craft. Beating to windward
under such conditions is always wet work, but this
Boxing Day morning the Seabird half drowned us
with spray. Sailing hard under a press of canvas
she smashed the crests of the seas into showers of
spindrift, which, flying aft, found out the weak
places in our oilskins and drenched us to the skin.
My companion soon sought shelter in the cabin,
only emerging to handle the headsail sheets when
we went about. Every moment the breeze fresh-
ened, until at last a vicious squall buried the cutter
to her coamings. To carry on longer were to
court disaster, so hauling the foresail a-weather we
hove her to and set about shortening sail. Reefing
when riding at anchor head to wind and tide is one
thing, but with the yacht hove-to in a wild wind
and welter sea it is quite another matter. That
at least was my opinion as, standing on the rudder-

BREAKERS AHEAD 227

head with one arm hugging the viciously kicking
boom, I made repeated ineffectual dabs at the reef
cringle with the end of the earing. At last, how-
ever, I contrived to reeve the pendant, and bending
on the tackle we boused the cringle down to the
bee-blocks. Having taken in a pair of reefs and
stowed the foresail, we put the boat upon her
course again. But what with the violent motion
of the yacht, and the numbed condition of our
hands, nearly an hour had been sacrificed, and by
the time our task was completed the wind had
increased to half a gale. Even with her reduced
sail the Seabird was over-canvassed and badly
wanted the third reef; but, being doubtful whether
she would handle in such a sea under a close-
reefed mainsail, we decided not to venture upon a
further reduction. If it were wet work before, it
was far worse now, for, hard driven as she was,
the cutter scrunched through the seas instead of
rising to them, and green water poured aft over
decks and cabin-top in a seething smother. The
bitter wind lashed our faces like a whip, whilst a
continuous shower of stinging spray from the
weather-bow almost blinded us. As we neared the
Knoll Buoy it commenced to snow ; but, fortunately,
we had just gone about after a long board towards
the Eagle and could now lay the buoy. Snow is
the sailor's deadliest enemy in the winter-time, for
it blots out buoys and landmarks as effectually as
the densest fog. The Knoll was barely a mile dis-
tant, but I called to Billy to hand out the compass.
9?

228 IN TIDAL WATERS

It was well that I took the precaution, for in a
few minutes we were driving through a veritable
blizzard. It would be difficult to imagine anything
more comfortless than the well of a small yacht,
five miles from the nearest land, under such con-
ditions. Our faces were blue with cold, and our
bodies chilled to the very bone, whilst the con-
gealed blood upon our knuckles bore witness to the
strenuous nature of the work in which we were
engaged. Suddenly the big gas-buoy loomed up
through the driving snow not a boat's length away,
so close indeed that I instinctively luffed to clear
it. Now we must steer by compass through the
intricate Ray sand Channel.

ic Get out the chart, Billy, and tell me the
course," I shouted to my companion. He dived
into the cabin, but a moment later reappeared.

" Where is it ? " he inquired ; " there are no
charts in the case."

Then I remembered that some weeks before I
had taken the charts ashore to preserve them from
damp, and had omitted to replace them.

"Never mind; it doesn't matter," said Billy;
" I know the course; it's S.W. by S."

ic I think's it more westerly than that," I
ventured.

" Oh no, it isn't. I steered a compass course
through here only a few weeks ago, and I am quite
sure it was S.W. by S.," he asseverated

' Well, I suppose you're right, but I certainly
had an impression that it was more westerly."

BREAKERS AHEAD 229

When sheets were started the cutter bounded
along like a hunted hare, . and with wind and sea
on the quarter it was all I could do to hold her.
But running down wind, although pursued by a wild
flurry of snow and sleet, was certainly preferable
to beating against it, and our spirits rose at the
thought of a following breeze for the remainder of
the journey. Not a little pleased at having won our
way round the Knoll under such trying conditions,
we had a tot of neat whisky to celebrate the event,
and then Billy retired to the cabin to fill and light
a pipe for me. He remained below some little time,
engaged in tidying up, as, despite our -precautions,
a number of things had got adrift. When at length
he emerged he stood for a moment in a listening
attitude, then, turning to me, inquired :

" Do you hear anything strange, skipper ? ?!

I pulled off my sou' -wester, for the lugs covering
my ears rendered me partially deaf.

Hear anything ? Good Lord I I should think
I could.

" Breakers ahead," I shouted. " Lee oh I "

Billy jumped to the jib-sheet, and let it fly,
whilst I, jamming the tiller down with my knees,
hauled on the main for all I was worth.

As the cutter came to the wind a great sea
broke on board, and, sweeping over the boat as if
she were a half -tide rock, flooded the well. It was
a wild moment. We stood knee-deep in icv-cold
water, whilst overhead the boom thrashed savagely
from side to side. Then? filling on the starboard

230 IN TIDAL WATERS

tack, the Seabird settled down to her work and
began to retrace her steps. A few minutes later it
stopped snowing, and there, close astern, lay the
uncovered Buxey Sands, upon which the sea was
breaking with a sullen roar plainly audible above
the howling of the wind. Our escape had been a
narrow one, for had the Seabird struck the sands
the heavy sea must speedily have battered her to
pieces, and in a little while nothing would have
remained but a few pieces of storm-tossed wreckage
to bear witness that another gallant vessel had paid
tribute to Father Neptune.

Presently we sighted the North Buxey Buoy, and
slacking off ran quickly down to it. Once in the
channel we gybed and put the boat upon her course
for the Burnham river. All was now plain sailing,
for the marks were visible, and we could not go
wrong. With the boom squared off the Seabird
ran through the Raysand Channel as steadily as a
train, and Billy was able to heat some soup. More-
over, the wind began to take off, and the young
flood having gathered strength the sea became
much smoother. Presently the sun burst through
the gloom and lighting up the shimmering sea
effected a complete transformation. Close at hand
a clump of naked trees on Foulness marked the
mouth of the river, and all around was laughing
water. Never have I seen such a rapid change from
foul weather to fair. It seemed, indeed, as if the
forces of Nature had spent themselves in their
ineffectual effort to drown us,

BREAKERS AHEAD 231

Our troubles were over, and, lighting a roaring
fire, we dried the wet cabin as we reached up the
river. By the time we arrived at Fambridge the
only outward traces that remained of the " dusting "
we had experienced were a mainsail wetted to the
peak and faces thickly coated with salt; but the
roar of the breakers on the Buxey Sands will live
in our memories for many a long day.

CHAPTER XXIII

AN AUTUMN PASSAGE

IT was already dusk when our train steamed into
Lowestoft Station, and as we stayed to dine at an
hotel on the way to the harbour, the shades of
night had long fallen ere a shore boat dumped us
on the deck of the Talisman. She was a five -ton
cutter of obsolete type that had recently passed into
the ownership of a young friend of ours, and in a
rash moment we had consented to sail her round
to Burnham, which was to be her future head-
quarters. Young Moreland, the owner, was to
have accompanied us, but an untimely attack of
influenza at the eleventh hour compelled him to
stay at home. As it was already late in October
he was anxious to get his new purchase round to
the Crouch without delay, and, yielding to per-
suasion, Billy and I consented to make the passage
without him.

An exceptionally fine autumn had prolonged the
yachting season beyond its recognised limits, and
there were still a good many vessels lying in the
yacht basin. But the weather now showed signs
of breaking up, and the craft moored in the tier
were rolling uncomfortably to a heavy ground swell

232

AN AUTUMN PASSAGE 233

that indicated a rough sea outside. After some
fumbling about in the dark we opened the cabin
doors and were assailed by that indescribable odour
of stale bilge -water and paraffin that is familiar only
to those who go down to the sea in small yachts.
It was obvious that the cabin had not been inhabited
for a considerable time, and so we removed the
fore-hatch and opened the scuttles to allow a free
current of air to pass through the vessel. In the
meantime we sat on deck and smoked a final pipe
before turning in. The prospects for the morrow
were certainly not very promising. The wind
came in vicious squalls, and the yacht rolled and
strained at her warps in a manner that presaged an
uncomfortable night. But it was chilly on deck,
and we soon sought the shelter of the cabin. I use
the word " shelter " advisedly, for it embraces all
that the tiny saloon had to offer. There was
certainly no comfort to be had below decks in the
Talisman. A cold clamminess pervaded the cabin,
and the cushions and blankets were damp and
musty. Everything had a dilapidated appearance,
and the vessel was so deficient in head-room that
one could hardly sit upright. A brief examination
of the bedding decided us to turn in " all standing,"
and wrapped in our overcoats we made shift to
get a few hours' sleep on the floor.

We turned out the next morning at daybreak to
find that the weather had taken a turn for the
worse. There was a fresh south-east breeze, and
a driving mizzle of rain that had evidently come

234 IN TIDAL WATERS

to stay. Outside the harbour the sea was breaking
on the beach with a sullen roar, and even in the
yacht basin the Talisman charged about and slapped
the surface of the water with her counter like an
infuriated young whale. It was certainly no
weather for a seventy-mile trip round the coast in
a five-tonner of doubtful seaworthiness. But we
were young, and pride forbade us to return home
without making the attempt. So we hardened our
hearts and set about getting breakfast.

The gear was in a deplorable state, and a full hour
was cut to waste in getting things in some sort of
order. The flood tide had been flowing for four
hours when at seven o'clock we got our warps
aboard preparatory to leaving the yacht basin, but
we hoped to carry the flood as far as South wold.
Lying in the middle of the tier we had to pass over
the warps of several other vessels, pushing them
beneath the cutter's keel with a boathook. As
luck would have it, one of these warps jammed
between our stern-post and rudder, and whilst we
were endeavouring to clear it, the Talisman swung
foul of a smart yacht lying alongside. The com-
motion brought out the owner, who expressed his
opinion of the Talisman and her crew in language
of the most lurid description, what time he stood
on deck shivering in his pyjamas. At last we got
clear, and hastily setting the single-reefed mainsail
and jib, fetched out of the basin. Then we had to
beat down the narrow outer harbour, but, what
with a foul tide and being blanketed by the South

AN AUTUMN PASSAGE 235

Pier, progress was so slow that we were on the point
of abandoning the trip altogether, when an outward-
bound steam-drifter threw us a line and very kindly
towed us out. We held on to the friendly smack
until we had a good offing, and then, parting com-
pany, filled on the port tack to sail through the
Covehithe Channel. Although to some extent
protected by the Newcome and Barnard Sands we
found plenty of sea, and the Talisman rolled heavily
as she reached along close hauled.

" We shall have a rare dusting when we get clear
of the sands," remarked my companion as he
pensively sucked at his pipe.

" Yes," I replied, " and the breeze looks like
freshening. I wonder what the glass is doing."

But there was not an aneroid on board, and so we
drove on, trusting that the weather would improve
as the day advanced. We fetched Kessingland on
that board, and then had to beat round Covehithe
Ness. The seas were now steep and hollow, and
the little cutter hove her bows high in the air. The
water streamed aft over deck and cabin top, more
than was pleasant finding its way into the well.
The yacht seemed to make but little progress
through the water, but the flood tide carrying her
over the bottom, we gradually won our way round
the Ness. In the meantime we had been making
discoveries. First a cleat carried away, the three-
inch screws drawing clean out of the coaming.
" Looks like dry rot," was my comment, to,which
Billy replied, " I believe the old thing is as ripe as

236 IN TIDAL WATERS

a pear." Then we found that the water was over
the cabin floor. Fortunately we were then clear
of the sands, and had plenty of sea-room to heave-to
and pump her out.

Having cleared her of water, we held a hurried
consultation. Prudence prompted a return to
Lowestoft, but neither of us liked the idea of
acknowledging defeat.

" Oh, hang it all," said Billy at last, " we can't
turn tail now. Why, we can fetch along the coast
as far as Aldeburgh, and will only have a few miles
to beat round the Ness, and then it is a fair wind to
Harwich. Let's try and get into Felixstowe Dock
to-night."

The sea was high, but the waves were long and
regular. The wind, moreover, seemed inclined to
back further to the eastward, which would make
the conditions more favourable for us.

" All right," I said at last ; " we'll go on for a bit,
anyhow, and if the worst comes to the worst we'll
put into South wold."

So, taking our courage in both hands, we put
the Talisman on her course again. We could lay
along the coast comfortably now, and even eased
the sheets a little, but steering was tricky work.
The seas had to be carefully watched, and the
vessel luffed to meet every dangerous -looking wave.
Occasionally a breaking crest would come on board,
giving us a good sousing, and despite our oilskins
we had not a dry thread between us. The tide had
now turned, but heeled to the covering board the

AN AUTUMN PASSAGE 237

/

cutter was tramping along in fine style. Con-
sidering the unsound condition of sails and gear,
we were " carrying on," but we were anxious to
make a port as soon as possible. The Talisman
certainly made a good deal of water, but occasional
spells of bailing kept it under, and our spirits rose
as we reeled off mile after mile. We passed South-
wold in a storm of rain which completely blotted
the town from view. All we saw of the place was
the end of the pier and the dim outline of the light-
house. To enter the harbour, which lies about a
mile to the southward, in such thick weather was
out of the question, and so we plugged along on our
course. The weather cleared when we were off
Dunwich, and the sun made a sickly effort to shine
for a few minutes, lightening up some picturesque
little cottages that nestled 'neath the cliff. But
scenery had no attractions for us that morning, and
we should have much preferred the wall of a dock
to gaze upon. The trend of the coast now brought
us closer to the wind, and we had to get the sheets
hard in to lay our course. Progress consequently
became slow, and it was all we could do to stem
the tide. Then we had to make a board to weather
Thorpe Ness. A wicked sea was running on the
Sizewell Bank, and we had to ply the bucket
vigorously to keep the cutter afloat. Fortunately
the wind freed a little, enabling the Talisman to
win round the Ness, but we had paid a dear price
for victory. Our foresail slatted in ribbons from
the forestay, and the dinghy was swamped. The

238 IN TIDAL WATERS

boat turned over and over, wallowing in our wake
like a porpoise, and holding the yacht back. Seizing
my knife I ruthlessly cut her adrift, and she was
soon lost to view. The cutter could now lay her
course again, and gradually fetched along the
coast past Aldeburgh. The lofty lighthouse on
Orford Ness was plainly visible, and as we drew
nearer to it, our spirits began to rise again. Once
round the Ness and our troubles would, we thought,
be over, for we should have a slashing beam wind
that would rapidly carry us to Harwich Harbour.
But the fates frowned upon us, and when within a
mile of the lighthouse the wind broke us off, and
we could not lay the Point.

We were now in sorry plight. With wind and
tide against us we could barely hold our own, and
there was no prospect of weathering the Ness until
the flood made. A sort of dumb misery settled
upon us, and hour after hour we mechanically
worked the boat and bailed. Then the blackness of
night began to close upon the Talisman, and the
lantern at the top of the lofty lighthouse solemnly
winked at us. But time stands still for no man,
and presently the tide began to ease. Slowly but
surely we forged ahead. With the young flood
gaining strength our progress improved, but we now
had to encounter a wicked sea. I often think that
the man who drew the chart of this district was a
bit of a wag. " Strong Ripples " are indicated off
Orford Ness. Well, those strong ripples came at us
from all directions, and washed the Talisman's

AN AUTUMN PASSAGE 239

decks as if she were a half-tide rock, and we, her
crew, were hard put to it to keep her afloat.
Battered and bruised we plied the bucket for dear
life, and gradually won our way round the Ness into
Hollesley Bay. But victory had not left us scath-
less, for the rotten old sails showed many a rent.
In the cabin the water lay deep over the lee bunk,
and our shore going clothes were floating about. But
we now had the wind on the beam, and, with the
tide flooding strongly, began to reel off the miles at
a merry rate. The yacht, however, was leaking
badly, and although we continued to bail vigorously
we could make no impression upon the water. She
had evidently been badly strained in the rough-
and-tumble off Orford Ness, and being without a
dinghy we were in sore straits. Shaking out a reef
we drove her for all she was worth in a desperate
attempt to make Harwich, but at last Billy threw
down the bucket. " I can bail no more," he said,
" I am done."

I took a look round to see if there was any vessel
near at hand to render us assistance, but not a
light was visible to seaward. On the land side,
however, I made out the lights of Bawdsey Manor,
high up on the cliff. " We will try and get into
Bawdsey Haven," I said; " it's a devil of a place,
and I haven't been in there for years, but it's our
only chance. Look out for a couple of lanterns on
the beach. We have to get them in one and run
in on those marks." Easing the mainsheet a
little, I put her head for the spot where I thought

240 IN TIDAL WATERS

the entrance should be. Several lights could be
seen on the shore, but none that had the appearance
of leading lights, and so we rushed blindly on with
our hearts in our mouths.

" Breakers ahead ! " Billy suddenly screamed,
and immediately we were in a hell of seething waters.
With a sickening scrunch the Talisman struck the
shingle bar. The yacht paused for a moment, and
then a great wave picked her up and literally hurled
her into the smooth waters of the haven. But the
cutter was now quite water-logged, and in imminent
danger of foundering. She rolled heavily from side
to side as the tide carried her swiftly over the
ground. Billy was throwing off his clothes pre-
paratory to diving overboard. ic Hold on," I
shouted, " there's the light on the ferryboat. We
have only a few yards to go. Never mind the
anchor, I'll run her ashore." Then I shoved the
helm over, and as she came to the wind, her keel
grated on the shingle beach. The passage perilous
was won, and we lost no time in getting on dry
land. Fishing our clothes out of the water in the
cabin we hastily made them up into a great dripping
bundle. Then having thrown the anchor over the
side we left the ill-fated Talisman and sought refuge
at a little inn, where we were treated with much
hospitality.

The next day, when we turned out, all that was
visible of the Talisman was her masthead. Fortu-
nately the owner had, without our knowledge,
insured her for the trip at Lloyd's, and as she was

AN AUTUMN PASSAGE 241

subsequently declared to be what is technically
known as a " constructive total loss," he recovered
her full value. Billy and I came to the conclusion
that qur clothes were also " a constructive total
loss," but we had no kindly underwriter to com-
pensate us. We had learnt, however, to give the
North Sea in general, and Orford Ness in particular,
a wide berth during the autumn months, and perhaps
the knowledge was not altogether dear at the price
of a suit of clothes apiece.

THE END

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